

hnl c M ^^5-1 

Copight 


CORfRIGlfT DEPOSni 





t 




“ JlfETHINKS THE MAID WILL SEE EE 
OUR PURPOSE WELL " 





1 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

STOB^ 

GIRJ,S 


^LUCY FOSTER 
MADISON 

'' STuihor y 

“A Coloni&l Mtvid“e^c. 



TJlusirai'ed by 
CLYDE O.DELAND 


j Wie Penn 

Publishing Coxap^i\y | 

1 P H I L ^ ] 

[> & L P H 1 A 

M C M IV j 




library nf OON6RESS 
1>M) CoDles Received 

AUG 20 1904 

Oooyrfffht Entry 

Icf 0 ’r 

CLASS ^ XXo. No. 

Q h' 0 S 

COPY B 


Copyright 1904 by The Penn Publishing Company 


Id Doublet and Hose 


Contents 


CHAP. page 

I A Question of Skill 7 

II The Soldier Guest 17 

III The Page’s Dress 27 

IV Anthony Babington 37 

V On the Road to Stafford ... 48 

VI A Glimpse of Mary 56 

VII Francis to the Front 66 

VIII The Delivery of the Letters . . 75 

IX The Coming of Elizabeth ... 90 

X The Queen Takes Offense . . . loi 

XI At THE Queen’s Command . . . iii 

XII The Favor of Princes 121 

XIII A Familiar Face and a Challenge, 137 

XIV A Strange Duel 149 

XV The Strange Weakness of Francis 

Stafford 160 

XVI What Came of an Offer of 

Friendship 17 1 

XVII What Francis Overheard . . . 182 

3 


4 


CONTENTS 


XVIII An Adventure 192 

XIX A Shelter from the Storm . . . 203 

XX Francis Finds a Helper . . . . 213 

XXI An Unlooked for Reception ... 223 

XXII As It Fell Out 229 

XXIII In the Tower of London .... 238 

XXIV A Friend in Need 250 

XXV A Great Sorrow Befalls Francis . 260 

XXVI A Fellow Prisoner 272 

XXVII The Escape 284 

XXVIII The Three Volunteers .... 297 

XXIX A Britomarte of the Armada . . 304 

XXX Pardon and Happiness 321 


Illustrations 


PAGE 

Methinks the Maid will Serve our Purpose 
Well!” Frontispiece 

Queen Mary’s Wit Grasped the Situation . 77 / 

Elizabeth Extended her Hand Graciously . 107 

The Two were Deep in the Mysteries of 

Fencing 156 

She Gave a Faint Gasp 19a 

“ I Will Not Tell, Sir Francis ” 248 ' 

Pull, Pull for Your Life! ” 318 ' 



In Doublet and Hose 


CHAPTER I 

A QUESTION OF SKILL 

It was June, and the peaceful stillness of a 
summer^s day hung over an ancient wood 
which lay in the heart of the New Forest 
near the village of Lyndhurst. The wood 
was a part of a large demesne which had at 
one time been bordered by hedges of yew and 
holly, but these, having been untrimmed for 
years, had grown into great bushes which in 
many places were choked up by underwood 
and brambles. 

The forest stretched in every direction. 
Wood after wood rose before the eye, masses 
of color, the birches hung with softest green, 
the oak boughs breaking into amber and 
olive made doubly bright by the dark gloom 
of the firs. Wide-branched oaks were inter- 
mingled with beeches and copsewood of vari- 
7 


8 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


ous descriptions so closely in some places as 
to intercept the sunshine. In others the trees 
receded from each other, forming wide vistas 
that gave glimpses of other recesses of sylvan 
solitude. 

Down the long sunlit glades the gold belted 
bees sounded their humming horns through 
every flowery town of the weald. Gauze- 
winged dragon-flies darted hither and thither 
while butterflies of every hue sailed by on 
wings of sheeny bronze. In the bracken 
wild roses rioted in the richest profusion ; the 
foxglove blazed like pillars of Are through 
the shadowy underwood and the woodbine 
flaunted its tall head proudly among the 
leaves. A gentle breeze rustled the fern, and 
breathed upon the quaking grass, setting its 
beautiful spikelets in motion until they 
seemed like fairy bells rung by elfln An- 
gers. The flutter and hum of the wild things 
served but to intensify the stillness of the 
wood. 

All at once the deep bass notes of a hound 
broke upon the air. Louder and louder grew 
the baying, and soon from out of the pur- 
plish shade of the trees there dashed a large 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 9 

greyhound followed by a laughing, panting 
maiden. 

Content thee, Echo,^’ she cried flinging 
herself upon the sward under a wide-spread- 
ing oak. I have breath to follow thee no 
more. Rest until our good cousin joins us.’’ 

The dog obediently stretched himself by 
her side, and once more quiet reigned in the 
wold. Presently the maiden sat up with an 
impatient movement. 

“ He tarries long,” she said throwing a 
mass of auburn curls from a broad, low brow. 

Marry ! I fear that we have done but an ill 
turn to the good Hugh.” 

As she spoke the form of an elderly man 
emerged from the trees and approached her 
slowly. He was withered and thin and 
though but flfty years of age seemed much 
older. His doublet and hose were of some 
dark stuff and his short cloak was surmounted 
by a huge ruff, the edges of which almost 
joined the brim of the small, high, cone- 
shaped hat which partly concealed his gray 
hair. 

By the mass, Francis I methinks that 
thou dost grow more unmannerly each day. 


lo IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


Thou art as unthinking as the butterfly, else 
thou wouldst not have burdened my fore- 
wearied flesh with thy bow.’^ 

“ In sooth, it was but a poor return for thy 
kindness to leave thee my bow,” observed the 
girl as she hastened to relieve him of the 
crossbow that he held. “Thy pardon. Mas- 
ter Hugh. I was intent upon the race and 
thought not of it. It was a good dash, I 
promise you.” 

'^Ayl I make no doubt of it,” grumbled 
the old man seating himself. But ’twere 
meeter for a maiden to embroider, or to play 
the virginals than to shoot the bow or run 
with the hounds as thou dost.” 

Said I not my Latin well this morning, 
cousin ? ” queried Francis. Doth not my 
lady mother instruct me in the tent and cross- 
stitch each day ? Besides doth not even the 
Queen’s Majesty disport herself with the bow ? 
’Tis the fashion, good my master.” 

Ay ! ‘ Dum vitant stulti vitia, in con- 

traria currunt,’ ” ^ spoke the old man sharply. 

Be not angry, cousin, I did but ill in run- 
ning from thee.” 

* While fools avoid one error they fall into the opposite one. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE ii 


“ Marry ! let it pass, but I mislike such 
sturdiness, Francis. Thou hast led me a 
sorry chase and we are far from the Hall. If 
I mistake not, we are even now in Sanborne 
Park and that, thou knowest, is trespass.’^ 

“ Nay, cousin ; not unless we kill some of 
the red deer with which it abounds, and that 
we have not done — yet,” spoke the maiden 
demurely. 

The thought of such a thing should not 
be entertained by the daughter of Lord Will- 
iam Stafford. Thou durst not think it, 
Francis.” 

“Durst not?” laughed Francis teasingly. 
“ Should one stray in our path I will show 
thee what I durst.” 

“ Boast not, girl. It bespeaks ill for thy 
breeding. Thou art too prone to vaunt thy 
skill in shooting. Not so was that flower of 
womanhood, the Lady Jane Grey. Once,” 
and the tutor spoke warmly for this was a 
favorite theme, “ once it was my good hap to 
pass some time at Broadgate, her father^s seat 
in Leicestershire, and never have I seen her 
like for love of learning. Greek, Latin, 
French and Italian spoke she as well as her 


12 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


own tongue. Some knowledge had she also 
of Hebrew, Chaldee and Arabic. She loved 
not such idle sport as the chase. Would that 
thou wert like her.’^ 

Out upon thee for so evil a wish,^^ chided 
Francis, but there was a merry twinkle in her 
eye that softened the harshness of her tone. 
“ Wouldst have me beheaded ? Yet it may 
be that I am such a dullard that thou dost 
wish that I should meet with a like fate.^' 

“ Nay, child ! Thou knowest better.’^ The 
face of the old man softened involuntarily as 
he gazed into the laughing countenance of 
the girl before him. 

Her head was crowned by a mass of red 
gold hair which, guiltless of crisping or curl- 
ing pins, fell in ringlets over her shoulders ; 
her complexion was of creamy fairness ; her 
features regular, her eyes dark and luminous ; 
her whole expression full of winsomeness ; 
but there was a sparkle in the dark eyes now 
so full of mischief, and a set to the rich red 
lips that spoke volumes for the spirit of Mis- 
tress Francis Stafford. 

I would only that thy desire for learning 
was like to that of the Lady Jane’s,^^ went on 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 13 

the tutor. “Yet I do not dislike thy courage, 
and thou art a good wench, surely.^’ 

“ Hark ! cried Francis springing to her 
feet. “ I hear the hounds. Look ware. 
Echo ! Look ware ! Ware, ware ! 

The greyhound, answering with short 
sharp yelps, rushed forward frantically, and 
then stood at gaze as a tall red deer bounded 
from the covert into the open glade. The 
noble animal’s strength was almost spent. 
His mouth was embossed with foam and large 
round tears were dropping from his eyes. 
With a motion that was at once despairing 
and majestic he turned to face his pursuers as 
a pack of hounds dashed from the trees and 
surrounded him, making the air hideous with 
their clamor. 

Instantly the maiden fitted a shaft to her 
bow and let fiy a bolt as the tutor uttered a 
shrill cry of remonstrance : 

“ Stay thy hand, girl ! Knowest thou not 
the danger ? ” 

Before the wounded animal could turn to 
charge this new assailant an answering twang 
sounded from among the trees and a second 
arrow, sent with unerring precision, imbedded 


14 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

itself in the deer’s body. As the stag fell, a 
lad of some sixteen years, clad in the dress of 
a forester, ran hastily forward and reached the 
animal at the same moment that Francis did. 

“ Behold, cousin,” cried the girl trium- 
phantly, “ I have slain the deer. Could thy 
Lady Jane Grey have done so well, thinkest 
thou?” 

“ Nay, fair maid,” and the boy turned 
quickly, ’twas mine own bolt that did the 
deed. Behold for thyself that thy shaft struck 
too far to the left.” 

“ ’Tis false,” cried Francis angrily. ’Twas 
mine arrow that slew him. This one is mine, 
and thou seest that it alone hath entered the 
vital part. ’Tis thine that is too far to the 
left.” 

Nay ; not mine, but thine,” retorted the 
lad. “ What ? Would I, who lack but little 
of man’s estate be excelled by a girl ? See for 
thyself, mistress. The two are not an inch 
apart. The point is only which did the deed. 
On mine honor, I tell thee, that it was mine 
own arrow. Thou seest that it hath pene- 
trated deeper than thine.” 

I see naught of the kind,’^ answered 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 15 

Francis with passion. “ It was mine that 
did it.’^ 

“ Good master/^ said the boy appealing to 
the tutor, didst mark that the stag fell not 
until he received my shot? ” 

Ay ! I noted it, lad, and ’tis a point well 
taken,” quoth Master Hugh. But a truce to 
thy quibbling. Here are the huntsmen.” 

The noise of the horns had been growing 
louder and louder as the hunting party drew 
near, but the boy and girl were so absorbed in 
their controversy that they had not heeded 
it. 

Fair maiden, there is a penalty,” began 
the lad, but one of the hunters called out : 

Beshrew me ! if the quarry be not slain ! 
What varlet hath done this? ” 

As Francis started forward the lad spoke, 
“I, good my master. Give me thy knife, 
I pray thee, that I may make the essay.” 

^'What, ho, boy? Thou? Then instead 
of breaking the stag, thou shalt break the 
jail. Knowest thou not that it is trespass to 
kill deer upon the land of another ? ” 

He did it not,” cried Francis. Twas I. 
What is the penalty ? My father. Lord Will- 


1 6 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


iam Stafford, will requite the loss ; but per- 
mit me, I pray, to take trophy of my skill/^ 

^‘Thou?^^ The foresters who had sur- 
rounded the youth looked with amusement at 
the girl, and then broke into loud guffaws. 

“ Heed her not, masters. Could a maiden 
do such a thing? She knows not of what 
she speaks.’^ 

Nay ; give heed to me, I beseech you,'' 
cried Francis, but the lad interrupted her. 

‘‘ Permit it to be as I have said, mistress. If 
there be penalty, 'twere meeter for me to suffer 
it than for thee. Withdraw, I beseech you." 

The boy is right," said Hugh Greville. 
“ It is no place for thee, Francis. I will speak 
to thy father concerning the matter. Mean- 
time we can serve no good purpose here. 
Come ! " 

“No, no," cried the girl trying vainly to 
make the foresters attend her. “ 'Twas I who 
killed the deer. It was not this lad." 

But the verderers paying no further atten- 
tion to her words busied themselves about the 
cutting up of the deer. With a burst of 
angry tears Francis reluctantly permitted the 
tutor to lead her away. 


CHAPTER II 


THE SOLDIER GUEST 

Passing out of the park, Francis and her 
tutor came into the forest proper. One vast 
sea of woods rolled, a flood of green, over hill 
and valley onward and ever on till lost among 
the moors. Presently they ascended Stoney 
Cross Hill and there opened out one long 
view. On the northeast rose the hills of 
Winchester but the city was hidden in their 
valley. To the east lay Southampton by the 
waterside ; and to the north, gleamed the 
green Wiltshire downs lit up by the sunlight. 

Among the beeches but a short distance 
away lay Castle Malwood with its single 
trench and Forest lodge, where tradition says 
that William Rufus feasted before his death, 
and down in the valley was the spot where he 
is said to have fallen. The road now became 
a long avenue of trees — beeches with their 
smooth trunks, oaks growing in groups, with 
here and there long lawns stretching far away 
>7 


1 8 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


into distant woods. All at once the manor 
burst upon the view. 

Situated in the midst of a noble park which 
crowned the summit of one of the hills that 
fringed the borders of the weald, Stafford 
Hall, in this year of grace 1586, the twenty- 
eighth of Elizabeth, was graceful and stately 
in the extreme. The general design of the 
castle was a parallelogram defended by a 
round tower at each of the angles with an 
Anglo-Saxon keep. The entrance through a 
vaulted passageway was its most striking fea- 
ture. Of the time of the first Edward, there 
were signs of decay in tower and still more 
ancient keep. Crevices bare of mortar gave 
rare holding ground for moss and wall flower, 
and ivy and clematis mantled chapel and tur- 
rets with a dank shroud that added to the 
picturesqueness of the building. 

The park, full of ferny depths, glorious old 
oaks and deep glades, stretched away on one 
side toward the soft recesses of the forest. 
On the other its wooded declivities sloped 
down to an idle brook now stopped up by 
water-lilies and white crowfoot. The fair 
corn lands sloping to the southeast so as to 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 19 

miss no gleam of morning or noonday sun ; 
the fat meadows where the herbage hid the 
hocks of the browsing kine, and the hanging 
woods holding so many oaks and beeches ripe 
for the felling, formed an appanage that was 
almost royal. 

The views of the castle, the winding decliv- 
ity of hill, the trees, the fields, the exquisite 
landscape in the distance made an assemblage 
of nature^s beauties that was at once inspiring 
and noble. 

But Francis Stafford was too angry to heed 
either beauty of scene or sky, and she hurried 
toward the Hall with so quick a step that the 
tutor could scarcely keep pace with her. 

I cry you mercy, Francis, he panted 
querulously as the girl paused reluctantly in 
answer to his pleading. Age hath stolen my 
vigor and I cannot walk as thou canst. Al- 
ready thou hast made me plod many a weary 
step beyond my strength ; and now thou 
wouldst have me run as though I were a lad. 
Thou art too unheeding.’’ 

A truce to thy chiding, cousin,” rebuked 
the girl sharply. I marvel that thou dost 
appeal to my compassion. Thou knowest my 


20 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


skill with the bow, and thou didst see the 
deer fall under my shaft ; yet thou didst say 
with the boy that ’twas he who did the deed. 
CatiffI How dared he claim the stag? And 
’twas a hart royal ! 

“Yet had he not done so thou wouldst l^ave 
had to suffer fine and imprisonment. Dost 
know the law ? It says ” 

“ I care not what it says,^^ declared Francis 
haughtily. “ If I offend against the law then 
^twere meet that I should bear the penalty. 
My father shall right the matter.'^ 

Master Greville knowing full well the futil- 
ity of contradicting his charge when she was 
in such a wilful mood said no more, but 
meekly followed her as she started once more 
on her way. Through the great doors, which 
were of weathered oak thickly studded with 
nails, over which hung the family coat of 
arms, a shield, azure, three quatrefoils, argent, 
the girl and the old man passed across the 
paved courtyard, up a flight of steps to the 
terrace which led to the porch and from 
thence to the ante-hall passage. 

Serving men clothed in blue with the family 
arms upon the left sleeve, and retainers clothed 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 21 


also in blue but without the heraldic device 
thronged courtyard, terrace and hall. Francis 
hastened through the ante-hall passage to the 
great hall which lay beyond. The floors were 
freshly strewn with rushes, the walls were 
hung with rich tapestries representing stories 
from the classics. The upper end contained 
an oriel window under which was a fringed 
dais. On one side of the apartment was a 
huge fireplace over which the ancestral arms 
hung with the arms of England over them. 
On the other side towered lofty windows. A 
screen gallery, an organ and a high table com- 
pleted the hall which was the principal room 
of the castle and the place where all of the 
feasts, mummeries and masques were held. 

Ushers were hurrying through the great 
hall for it was covering time,’^ and the 
household was mustering for the midday 
meal. Francis threaded her way through 
the crowd of yeomen to the door of the pres- 
ence chamber, and drawing aside the arras 
that hid the entrance, opened it and entered. 

My father,^^ she began abruptly, and then 
paused for she saw that her father was not 
alone. 


22 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


“Is it you, my daughter?” Lord Stafford 
rose to meet her. The resemblance between 
them was very striking. “I had just asked 
for you. This is my child, Fortescue. She 
of whom we were speaking. Give greeting, 
Francis, to my good friend Captain Fortes- 
cue.” 

Francis gave a quick glance at her father’s 
guest. He was a man of commanding 
stature, with black hair and keen black eyes 
that held a cruel light in them. He was 
arrayed in a blue velvet jerkin with hose of 
the same material. A large beaver hat with 
a long feather in it lay on the table. A 
rapier depending from his belt completed his 
attire which was that of a soldier. Without 
heeding this fact something in his bearing 
caused the girl to address him as a priest. 

“ I give thee welcome, good father.” 

“ Said I not that the wench was shrewd ? ” 
asked Lord Stafford with a hearty laugh. 

“ Ay, my lord ; and ’twas well said,” re- 
turned the guest. “ My child, do you not see 
that I am attired as a soldier? ” 

“ I crave forbearance,” faltered Francis in 
some confusion. “ I did not notice thy dress. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 23 

but judged from thy manner. Nathless, priest 
or soldier, I give thee greeting. Prithee heed 
not mine error. 

’Twas naught,’^ smiled Captain Fortescue. 

It is to my praise that thou didst accost 
me as an holy man. My lord, methinks the 
maid will serve our purpose well.” 

I trow so,” answered Lord Stafford with a 
proud look. “ She hath spirit and courage to 
a rare degree in a maid. I know no lad of 
her age that can equal her in hunting or 
hawking. No tercelet for her, but the fiercest 
goshawk that e'er seized quarry. How now, 
Francis?” 

^^My father, I knew that thou wouldst 
believe my skill,” said Francis eagerly. Yet 
a lad did but now contend that he it was who 
shot a deer in the forest,” and she related the 
incident graphically. 

“ Beshrew me, I doubt not but that thine 
was the arrow that slew the buck, yet it con- 
tents me well that the lad should endure the 
penalty of the deed in thy stead. How now, 
Greville ? ” to the tutor. Was the youth 
of noble birth ? ” 

Methought there seemed something of the 


24 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

gentle in him, though he was but meanly 
garbed. Yet the apparel doth not always 
make the man,’’ answered Greville. 

“Not always,” acquiesced Lord Stafford. 

“ He was not noble,” interjected Francis 
shortly. “ Else he would not have claimed 
the deer. I would, good my father, that you 
compass his release, and let me take the con- 
sequences of my action. I killed the deer.” 

“ Be that as it may, child, the lad must 
bear the penalty. There are matters of grave 
import that must now be considered, and thou 
canst aid me.” 

“ I aid thee ? ” asked the girl in surprise. 
“ Father, didst thou say my aid ? ” 

“ Thine, child. Come to me anon, and I 
will acquaint thee with the full import of the 
matter. Greville, thou standest like a hind. 
Give greeting to our guest. One would think 
that thou hadst never been at court.” 

“ I give thee welcome, sir,” said Greville 
bowing. “ As my lord’s friend, I welcome 
thee.” 

“ Methinks thy countenance is not un- 
familiar, Master Greville,” and the soldier 
returned his obeisance courteously. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 25 

** In London mayhap thou hast seen me. 
It was mine abode for a time/^ replied the 
tutor carelessly. 

Perchance ^twas there/^ mused the other 
with a searching look at the old man. ** But 
howsoever that may be, later will I pledge to 
our better friendship.’^ 

I drink with no enemy of the queen,” 
said Greville coldly. 

** Greville ! ” exclaimed Lord Stafford. 

‘^We differ not. Master Greville,” smiled 
the soldier. My life, my service, my all 
is devoted to our queen. God bless Her 
Majesty I ” 

“ God bless Her Majesty, Elizabeth,” re- 
turned Greville pointedly. 

“ Thy mother waits thee, Francis, in her 
tiring-room,” interposed Lord Stafford hastily. 
“ Come to me anon. Greville, no more of 
this an thou lovest me.” 

The tutor without another word withdrew 
from the room accompanied by his pupil. 

Was it not strange, cousin, that I should 
have thought our guest a priest?” queried 
Francis when they were beyond the portals 
of the door. 


26 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


Nay ; the habit doth not always proclaim 
the monk/' quoth Greville sententiously. 

You spoke truer than you knew when you 
called him ^ father.' " 

Is he in sooth then a priest?" asked the 
girl curiously. Why comes he then in such 
array ? Are not priests always welcome in my 
father's house ? " 

Is it not within thy ken that an edict 
hath been passed making it treason for priests 
to be found within the kingdom, and felony 
to harbor them? And, forsooth, there is 
much reason for such a law. So many have 
been the plots against the Queen's Majesty 
that much precaution must be taken to pre- 
serve her from them." 

Would evil befall my father should it 
come to the ears of the queen that he had 
given a priest entertainment ? " 

I make no doubt of it, child. Therefore 
it behooves us to be silent respecting the mat- 
ter. But, by my life, girl ! we dally too long. 
Away ! and set a guard upon thy lips. If 
thou canst carry so weighty a matter sub 
silentio then will I deem thee better than the 
most of thy sex." 


CHAPTER III 


THE page’s dress 

The bower chamber of the Lady Penelope 
Stafford was both large and lofty yet there 
was nothing there of ponderous grandeur. 
The walls were covered with soft arras em- 
broidered in bright coloring skilfully blended. 
The rich furniture was designed for ease and 
comfort rather than pomp and parade. The 
chamber was lighted by a large window with 
broad casements between the mullions, and 
with flowing tracery above of arch and 
quatrefoil. 

On a low couch sat Lady Stafford swinging 
gently to and fro a delicate gold handled fan 
of flamingo feathers which ever and anon she 
laid aside to direct Francis who sat on a low 
stool at her feet plying some embroidery 
work. 

^'So, my daughter,” said the lady indi- 
cating a cross-stitch. Take heed to thy 
work else thou wilt not excel with the needle. 

27 


28 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


Marry, I marvel that thou dost accomplish 
anything with such unskilful fingers. Know- 
est thou not that the Queen's Majesty did 
fashion a shirt of cambric for her brother 
when she was but six years old ? I trow that 
that is more than thou couldst do now ; and 
thou art more than double that age.” 

I crave thy forbearance, my sweet mother,” 
pleaded Francis. My fancy dwells not upon 
my task, but the rather do I wonder in what 
manner I may be of service to my father. 
Dost thou know, my mother? ” 

I could make a shrewd hazard as to its 
nature, Francis. Content thee, child. Thou 
wilt soon know all.” A look of anxiety 
crossed the lady's face as she spoke, which the 
girl was quick to note. 

Thou art troubled, my mother. Prithee 
tell me the cause.” 

Nay, girl. Thy father will open up the 
matter to thy ears when he deems it best. 
Until then neither thou nor I may speak of 
it. 'Tis a woman's lot to obey, and never to 
question the decree of either father or hus- 
band.” 

But why ? ” asked the maiden. Have 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 29 

we not minds with which to reason? Can 
we not think as well as men? Wherefore 
then should we yield blind unreasoning 
obedience when mind and soul are as noble 
as theirs? Methinks that women's judg- 
ments are as wise as men's." 

Child, child," exclaimed the lady startled 
by the girl's vehemence. Thou hast too 
much of thy sire in thee for a girl. I fear 
such spirit. Study lowliness, for a woman 
should be meek. Stifle whatever of ques- 
tioning may come into thy heart, and render 
implicit obedience to thy father." 

That I will do, mother. Have I not ever 
reverenced him? 'Tis pleasure to obey his 
will. The more because I have so much of 
him in me. 'Twas he who taught me how to 
string a bow, and 'twas he who guided my 
maiden hand and eye until had I a brother 
he could not excel in hunting or hawking." 

I know, my daughter, yet my heart mis- 
gives me because of these very things. Hadst 
thou been a boy all this would not come 
amiss. But thou art a girl, and full of the 
weaknesses of women despite thy skill in 
men's sports. Nature, howsoe'er disguised. 


30 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

will soon or late assert herself. Thou art a 
woman, therefore again I say, steep thy soul 
in humility. I fear that haughtiness in thee 
which thy father doth abet. Methinks it 
bodes but ill both to thee and to him. But 
this give ear to : in all things be submissive 
to thy father. Heedst thou, Francis ? 

Yes, my mother.’^ 

I have thus spoken because dire forebod- 
ings have seized me of late. Thy proud spirit 
ill brooks authority, and thou wilt soon be of 
an age when if thy will should clash with thy 
father’s, I trow not the consequences. There- 
fore have I counseled thee. But of this no 
more.” 

For a time the two sat in silence, and then 
Francis broke the quiet : 

“ My mother, there is something that I 
would fain ask. 

Say on, my child.” 

'' When I speak of it to Master Greville he 
calls me disloyal, but I mean it not so. ’Tis 
only that I would know. My mother, why 
doth Elizabeth reign as queen if our rightful 
queen is Mary of Scotland ? Dost thou be- 
lieve her to be the true heiress to the crown ? ” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 31 

Yes, child ; as what true adherent of the 
faith doth not? Yet hath Elizabeth been a 
good queen save and except that she hath 
made severe laws against the exercise of our 
religion. But England hath truly prospered 
under her.” 

But there be some that would willingly 
raise Mary to the throne, are there not ? ” 

“ Tis treason to say so, but there be some 
in very truth. Tis because the queen fears 
them that she hath kept Mary so long a 
prisoner.” 

How long hath it been, mother ? ” 

Near nineteen years. It is a long, long 
time. She was full of youth and beauty 
when she set foot upon English soil, but now 
she hath grown old before her time with dis- 
ease and confinement. Truly the queen hath 
dealt harshly with her own kin.” 

Master Greville saith that she is a cruel 
bad woman, and that if she could compass 
the death of our queen she would do so.” 

Greville speaks of that of which he knows 
naught,” said Lady Stafford sharply. “ He 
hath let the gossip of the court fill him to re- 
pletion. It hath been said that Mary was a 


32 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

wicked woman, yet I believe it not. That she 
desireth her liberty is no crime, but rather 
the longing of all nature to be free. Mary is 
the daughter and the granddaughter of a 
king. Sometime queen of France, and 
crowned queen of Scotland. She is cousin 
german to Elizabeth, and if common natures 
cannot brook confinement what wonder is it 
that she sighs for freedom ? This desire hath 
caused her to attempt escape often by the aid 
of friends, and given rise to the belief that 
many would raise her to the throne.^^ 

Is Elizabeth beautiful, mother ? Greville 
says that she is the most lovely woman in the 
world. That none can compare with her for 
beauty, or for learning.’^ 

Lady Stafford laughed and then checked 
herself. 

Child,^' she said, it is my prayer that 
thou wilt grow here in thine own home as a 
wild flower without sight of queen or court. 
But if it should chance, which God forfend, 
that thou art called to the court, then remem- 
ber what thy tutor hath told thee, and count 
the queen the most beautiful of women. 

But is she ? 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 33 

The queen is learned, child, beyond what 
is usual for her sex. Greville will tell thee 
that there never was her like for knowledge, 
save and except the Lady Jane Grey, the which 
would be treason to speak. I mind well 
when Elizabeth was crowned that she was 
fair to look upon, but that was twenty-eight 
years ago. The queen is now past fifty years 
of age. Doth a fiower retain its loveliness 
forever? I trow not. Yet methinks I do but 
ill in speaking thus to thee. Elizabeth be- 
lieves that time for her hath stopped, and 
that age but enhances those charms which 
are the pride of women. Yet I have heard 
otherwise.” 

You go not to court, my mother. Why ? ” 

Because of its troubles and its dangers, 
Francis. Better to bide afar off in this re- 
mote spot than to dwell among the jealousies 
of courtiers. The favor of princes is uncer- 
tain, and even royalty is not always well dis- 
posed toward the happiness of a subject. I 
would fain never behold the court again, and 
I pray that thou mayst never be called to its 
treacherous pleasures.” 

‘^Art thou here, my child?” asked Lord 


34 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

Stafford coming in at this moment. “ This is 
a favorable time, I ween, for me to unfold my 
wishes to thee. Madam, will you bring the 
page’s dress ? ” 

Lady Stafford arose and drew from a chest 
of drawers the doublet, hose and short cloak 
of a page. 

“ Withdraw, Francis, to the tiring room, 
and don these habiliments,” commanded her 
father. 

“ But why,” began the girl, but Lord Staf- 
ford waved his hand impatiently. 

“ Do as I tell thee, girl. When thou art 
habited, return and hear the reason for thy 
strange attire.” 

Presently with a merry laugh Francis 
bounded into the room, and, doffing the 
jaunty bonnet that perched upon her tresses, 
swept him a deep bow. 

“ Am I not a fair boy, my lord ? ” she cried 
gaily. “ Do I not grace the garb? ” 

“ By my halidom, thou dost in very truth,” 
exclaimed her father laughing. But thy 
tresses ? Should they not be clipped ? ” 

“ Nay, good my lord,” spoke Lady Stafford 
entreatingly. '' Command not that, I pray 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 35 

thee. Thou shalt see how cunningly my hand 
can knot them up with silken strings. It will 
not be amiss in a lad.” 

“ Leave them then, if thou wilt be the bet- 
ter contented,” said the father. “ And now, 
child, if thou wilt but bring thy nimble wit 
into the part, thou shalt please me well. How 
say thee ? Wilt thou bear me company upon 
a grave mission ? Will thy courage fail, or 
canst thou, as if thou wert in very truth my 
son, aid me to compass that to which I am 
pledged ? How now, girl ? Hast courage for 
such an undertaking? ” 

My father, what mean you ? ” asked 
Francis in bewilderment. 

Take heed to my words. There is on foot 
a movement to release from her vile durance 
Mary, Queen of Scots. Too long hath she lain 
imprisoned. I am to carry to her letters of 
import that inform her of the design. But 
Mary is so immured, that heretofore it hath 
been impossible to gain access to her. A lad 
would serve the purpose, but there be none 
known to me of like courage and wit as thy- 
self. Girl, canst thou wear that garb and bear 
thyself as a man ? ” 


36 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

“ Ay, my lord ; and to do more if needful,’^ 
spoke Francis boldly. 

‘‘ There spoke myself in you,” said her 
father approvingly. Then hearken I at the 
first sign of the dawn we set forth, thou and 
I, for Chartley. How now, sweet chuck ? ” as 
a sob escaped the mother. “ Fear naught. 
Thy birdling will return to thee the better for 
having stretched her wings beyond the nest.” 

I fear, my lord, for you both,” said the 
lady brokenly. You know how all these at- 
tempts have ended, and Elizabeth hath no 
mercy for the perpetrators of them.” 

*^Now, now, be of good cheer. There is 
naught of harm meant to the queen. Tis 
only to give Mary freedom. Think only of 
thy daughter. Not many mothers in Eng- 
land can boast of such a girl.” 

“ Would that I had given thee a daughter 
of gentler spirit,” sobbed the lady. Oh, my 

lord, pardon my utterance. I fear, I fear ” 

There ! we will return safely and thou 
wilt forget thy misgivings in the success of 
our enterprise. But now to bed, to bed. The 
first gray of the morning must find us on our 
way. To bed, my child.” 


CHAPTER IV 


ANTHONY BABINGTON 

It was that darkest hour of the night, the 
one just before the dawn, that Francis was 
summoned to attend her father. None of the 
household was stirring save Brooks, an old 
servitor, who stood at the foot of the steps 
with the horses. The statues of terrace and 
court gleamed ghostly white in the darkness, 
and the grim old keep frowned darkly upon 
them. The deserted aspect of the courtyard 
filled the girl with dismay. High purposes 
and noble resolves flourish in the bright light 
of day and grow into mightiness in the first 
hours of the night, but the early dawn chills 
enthusiasm and makes the inspirations of the 
night before seem poor and weak and hardly 
worth an effort. 

Something of this feeling oppressed Fran- 
cis Stafford. She missed the shouting of the 
gallants, the screaming of the hawks, the 
37 


38 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

yelping of the dogs and the blowing of horns 
that was the accompaniment of a hunting- 
party. Instead of such a triumphal departure 
there was only the low sobbing of Lady Staf- 
ford as she bade them farewell. 

My lord, you will have great care for you 
both, will you not ? she murmured, trying 
to control her emotion. “ Oh, I like not the 
journey ! I like it not ! 

Be not dismayed,’’ comforted her husband. 
“ We will return soon, and there is no danger. 
We will be with thee again ere thou hast had 
time to miss us.” 

The lady said no more but embraced them 
mournfully. Both father and child were si- 
lent as they swept out of the courtyard into 
the park beyond. Presently the sky began to 
soften in the east, and the gray uncertain light 
gave place to the blushing dawn. Soon the 
dark shadows that lurked under the trees fled 
before the golden beams of the sun. Sud- 
denly the note of a lark rang out silvery and 
joyous. Bird after bird took up the note un- 
til from every tree and shrub there swelled a 
grand chorus as larks and throstles poured 
forth their matin song of praise. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 39 

How beautiful I ” cried Francis, her eyes 
sparkling, her spirits rising. “ My father, 
right glad am I to be here with thee.” 

“ Thine is a wild spirit, Francis,” said her 
father rousing himself. “ You mind me of 
these birds, so wild and free yet sweet withal. 
Child, mayhap I have done ill in taking thee 
thus from thy mother. And yet, we are not 
in the queen’s favor ! Should misfortune 
overtake one it would involve all.” 

Father, if by act of mine I can further 
thy purpose, make use of me, I pray. Glad 
am I that thou dost deem me worthy of thy 
confidence. And do we not go to the aid of 
Mary, our rightful queen ? What excuse 
need we for so doing? Oh, if I can once 
behold her, can but once kiss her hand, then 
would I be willing to lose even my life if 
’twere needful.” 

Lord Stafford smiled at her enthusiasm. 

“ Has the infection seized upon thee too, 
child ? In like manner so do I feel, and so 
do hundreds of others. Strange what an in- 
fluence Mary Stuart wields over human hearts ! 
God forfend that thy life should be required, 
Francis, though many have been lost in her 


40 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

cause. But I would not that thine should be 
numbered among them. Marry, it saddens 
me to think on’t. No more of this I 

“ What name shall you call me by, my 
father, since I am your page?” asked Francis 
presently. 

Thine own. Tis a name that thou dost 
wear because it was my father’s, and will serve. 
But bear thyself in accordance with it and 
none will deem thee other than thou seemest. 
And I — I must teach my tongue to say boy 
instead of child. We have a long ride before 
us, and I fear that thy strength will fail ere 
we reach its end.” 

Fear not, good my father. Thou knowest 
how used to fatigue I am in hunting and 
hawking.” 

“ I know thy strength, else I should have 
feared to risk thee for so long a jaunt. And 
thou hast never been so far from home before.” 

No ; I went with thee once to Lymington 
where I saw The Solent, and in the distance 
the Isle of Wight. But never have I been 
even across Southampton water.” 

True ; I had forgot. Then thou wilt be 
entertained greatly, for we go through Wilts, 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 41 

Gloucester and Worcester before we reach 
Stafford/^ 

And so conversing on through the woods 
they passed until at length they came to 
Bramshaw, a little village standing partly 
in Hampshire and partly in Wiltshire and 
forming the forest boundary. Before them 
swelled the rounded forms of the Wiltshire 
downs, and from their midst towered the 
spire of Salisbury with the mound of old 
Sarum looming darkly behind. 

I prithee tell me, father,” said Francis, 
“ what is that which I see in yon distance ? 
Methinks it looks like the tower of a church.” 

Its looks belie it not, Francis. It is the 
spire of the cathedral of Saint Mary, than 
which there is none higher in England. In 
the valley lies Salisbury where we will stop 
for rest and refreshment. Yon conical mound 
is Old Sarum which hath been a fortress from 
the earliest times. The fosse and rampart 
belong to the Roman period. In the vast 
plain which lies beneath it the Conqueror re- 
viewed his victorious armies, and there also 
did the English landholders swear fealty to 
him.” 


42 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

Francis looked with the delight of one who 
goes abroad for the first time. At the beauti- 
ful cathedral, then at the old fort, and lastly 
at the town itself which lay in the valley at 
the confluence of four rivers : the upper Avon, 
the Wiley, the Bourne and the Nadder. In 
the centre of the city was a large handsome 
square for the market-place from which the 
streets branched off at right angles. The 
streams flowed uncovered through the streets 
which added greatly to the picturesqueness of 
the place. 

Lord Stafford turned into one of the side 
streets, and drew rein before a small inn. The 
Mermaid by name. As he rode into the court- 
yard the host hurried forward to greet him. 

“ Good my lord,’’ he said obsequiously, 
light, and grace my poor house, I pray you. 
There be one here who hath waited since yes- 
ter e’en to see you.” 

Beshrew me, sayst thou so ! ” ejaculated 
Lord Stafford. “ I thought not to meet with 
any here. But oft must a man’s pleasuring be 
staid for by affairs of business. Is it not true, 
good Giles? ” 

Marry, ’tis only too true,” replied the host. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 43 

“ Where is he that would speak with me, 
Giles?” 

In the east parlor, my lord. I crave for- 
bearance, sir, for placing any in the room 
which is reserved for your use, but I knew not 
that you were about to fare this way.” 

Trouble not thyself concerning the matter, 
good Giles,” returned his lordship. “ Come, 
Francis.” 

Tossing his cloak to Francis he strode 
toward the entrance of the tavern. The girl 
threw the garment over her arm, started to 
follow him, and then paused in sheerest con- 
fusion at finding the eyes of the myrmidons 
of the inn upon her. 

Donning male attire in her own home had 
been mere sport, but with the curious eyes of 
strangers upon her the girl felt painfully em- 
barrassed. 

Look to thyself, boy,” came in sharp tones 
from her father, and there was a note of warn- 
ing in the faint emphasis that he placed upon 
the word boy. 

Thus adjured Francis collected her wits, 
and, looking neither to the right nor to the 
left, she followed after her father with all the 


44 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

boldness which she could assume. Lord Staf- 
ford wended his way to the east parlor of the 
inn with the air of being perfectly familiar 
with the place, giving his orders to the rotund 
host as he went. 

Tis but a short time that we will trouble 
thee, Giles,^^ he said. Serve us with dinner, 
I pray you. We will rest for a time, and then 
speed onward. Anthony,’’ he ejaculated as 
the host threw open the door of the chamber, 
it is thou? ” 

’Tis even I, my lord,” answered a tall 
young man coming forward. “ I had news 
that you were coming this way and hurried 
hither to greet you.” 

Right glad am I to see thee, Babington,” 
was Stafford’s rejoinder. I have much to 
say to thee. Hast dined ? ” 

No, my lord.” 

“ Then let us eat, and afterward there will 
be leisure for converse. Be in haste with thy 
meal, Giles.” 

The host hastened from the room while 
Francis slipped quietly into the nearest chair, 
and looked with interest at the young man. 
She had heard of Anthony Babington. His 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 45 

attachment to Mary of Scotland was well 
known, and his devotion invested him with a 
romantic glamour now that she too had 
espoused the same cause. The young man 
was speaking in low, rapid tones to her father : 

“ I tell you, my lord, that the attempt will 
not be successful. No invasion or insur- 
rection can occur during Elizabeth's life, for 
any open endeavor in Mary's favor will cause 
Sir Amyas Paulet to slay her. He hath sworn 
it." 

Then, Anthony, it may be unwise to try 
to release Mary from her prison. She hath 
suffered much of late from illness. It was my 
hope that if we were successful, to place her 
where she might obtain the comforts of which 
she hath been bereft, and so placed she would 
regain her health." 

“ The matter hath gone too far to end in 
her mere release," cried Babington earnestly. 
“ Elizabeth must die." 

Babington, thou art mad I " exclaimed 
Lord Stafford starting up in horror. 

'' Mad ? Nay ; I have just begun to see 
that I have been called to rid England of 
that most unjust queen who transcends the 


46 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

laws of blood by keeping her own kin 
imprisoned as she hath done. And I am not 
alone, Stafford. There are others who be- 
lieve as I do. Wilt thou join us ? 

“ Never,’’ cried Lord Stafford sternly. 
“ May my right hand drop from its shoulder 
ere it be raised against England’s queen. 
Unjust to Mary she hath been. Unjust in 
her treatment of her, and unjust in usurping 
the throne. But still she is her father’s 
daughter, and crowned queen of England. 
If it be so that the release of Mary can be 
compassed, and Elizabeth forced to recognize 
her as her successor, I will join the effort 
even as I have already pledged to do. But 
no more.” 

Hast thou not seen Ballard ? ” asked the 
young man in surprise. 

“ Yes ; he tarried with me at mine own 
house as Captain Fortescue. How now ? ” 

He said that thou wert ripe for the pro- 
ject,” mused the other. 

“ Not to assassinate Elizabeth,” returned 
Lord Stafford firmly. I go to Chartley now 
to acquaint Mary with the plan for her 
release. But I tell thee, Anthony, if what 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 47 

thou tellest me be true, then will I withdraw 
from the enterprise.” 

My lord, I did but try thee. Some there 
be who advocate the slaying of Elizabeth, but 
they are few. I beseech you, as you have 
given your pledge, aid us in acquainting 
Mary with the plan for her rescue. No more 
than this do we ask, and thou art depended 
on for this much.” 

As mine honor hath been given, I will 
continue to Chartley,” said Lord Stafford. 

“ Then, my lord, wilt thou bear this letter 
also from me,” and Babington handed him a 
small missive. It hath given her some 
uneasiness at not hearing from me, and I 
would ease her mind.” 

Yes, Anthony ; the letter shall be given 
her with these others.” Lord Stafford con- 
cealed it in his belt. Methinks that thou 
art in a bad way, my lad.” 

“ More anon,” said Babington. “ Our host 
comes. Thy dinner is served, my lord.” 


CHAPTER V 


ON THE ROAD TO STAFFORD 

Francis was so absorbed in the thoughts 
engendered by the conversation that she had 
just heard that she forgot all about her char- 
acter as page and her duties as such. She 
was recalled to herself by a sharp reprimand 
from her father : 

“Thy duty, Francis. Attend to the serv- 
ing/^ 

Babington turned a startled glance upon 
her as she arose in obedience to her father’s 
command. 

“ The page ? ” he cried. “ Did he hear our 
converse, my lord ? ” 

“ Yes ; but fear not, Anthony. I would 
stake mine honor upon his silence. Thou 
canst be trusted, Francis ? ” 

With heightened color, for the blood 
mounted to her cheeks at the intent gaze of 
the young man, the girl answered earnestly : 

“ Yes, my lord. Naught of what I have 
48 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 49 

heard shall pass my lips. Not even the rack 
should wring it from me.’’ 

Protest not too much, boy,” rebuked 
Babington. Older and wiser men than 
thou have succumbed to its tortures.” 

^‘You speak words of wisdom, Anthony,” 
remarked Lord Stafford. “ Let us hope that 
the boy will not be tried by so grievous an 
instrument. Yet I do believe that he will be 
discreet.” 

He seems a proper lad,” returned the 
other. “ A little backward, forsooth, but with 
none of the malapertness of some pages.” 

Francis, now completely at ease as she 
saw that the young man believed her to be 
what she appeared, flashed an arch look at 
her father. Lord Stafford smiled slightly, 
but his countenance soon became overcast 
with gravity. The meal over, the host with- 
drew, and the elder man turned once more 
to the younger one. 

Anthony,” he said, “ I must on my way, 
but let me plead with thee that if thou dost 
entertain a thought of such rash emprises as 
thy words suggest, to forego them. Naught 
but disaster could follow upon such projects.” 


50 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

“ My lord, say no more an thou lovest me,^^ 
replied Babington. “ Mary’s sufferings cry 
aloud for vengeance. Sleeping or waking her 
wrongs are before me. My lord, she is a pris- 
oner ; made to submit to privations that even 
the basest criminals do not undergo. Couldst 
thou have seen her at Tutbury or Wing- 
field as I have done, you would wonder no 
longer that deeds of blood suggest them- 
selves.” 

Anthony, thou art mad,” exclaimed Lord 
Stafford compassionately. 

“ Mad ! nay ; but Mary Stuart hath lan- 
guished too long in her chains. I would dare 
anything to release her from them.” 

“ And so would we all who love and rever- 
ence her as the true heiress of England’s 
crown, Anthony. Yet I fear that thou dost 
meditate wrong to Elizabeth, but surely thou 
wouldst not raise thy hand against a 
woman ? ” 

“ Ay, my lord ! Against a woman, or what 
not for Mary’s sake.” 

But Mary would not approve such 
measure.” 

No ; therefore do we only contemplate her 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 51 

rescue. The softness of her heart doth pre- 
vent other aims.’^ 

Anthony/^ said Lord Stafford preparing to 
renew his journey, I see that thou art ripe 
for some foolhardy enterprise. I misdoubt 
thy loyalty to Elizabeth, and fear that thou 
wilt soon engage in mischief. Had I not 
pledged mine honor to take these letters to 
Mary I would have naught to do with the 
matter. Thou hast raised grave doubts as to 
the nature of this undertaking. I fear for 
thee, for myself and family, and most of all 
do I fear for Mary Stuart. Thou knowest how 
eagerly Walsingham watches for an excuse to 
compass her death. Remember that, An- 
thony, and by the love you bear to her, 
forego the thoughts that charge thy brain.’’ 

“ Fear naught, my lord. Thy doubts carry 
thee farther than the issue warrants,” said 
Babington lightly. 

I bid you farewell, Anthony, but my 
heart is heavy with foreboding,” and Lord 
Stafford embraced him. “ Would that I had 
known all this ere mine honor had become 
involved.” 

Be of good cheer. You lay too much 


52 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

stress upon the matter/^ and the young man 
returned his embrace. “ Farewell.” 

Fare you well.” Lord Stafford proceeded 
to the courtyard followed by Francis. When 
the girl would have ridden behind him, he 
motioned her silently to come beside him. 
Wonderingly she obeyed, for not thus were 
pages wont to travel with their lords. 

My child,” said Lord Stafford when they 
had left the tavern behind and were on the 
old Roman road to Bath, I have done ill in 
embarking upon this emprise, and more than 
ill in engaging thee in it also. There are 
dark days before us, Francis.” 

“ My father,” and leaning from her horse 
the girl kissed him. “No matter what befall 
thou hast deemed me worthy to share thy 
danger, and I will not repine. But I like not 
to think that they wish to kill the queen.” 

“Think not on that, Francis,” said her 
father hastily. “ On that matter my heart is 
heavy, though I trow such attempt will not 
be made. Anthony but raves. Such thoughts 
are not for thy young heart. Dismiss them, I 
entreat thee.” 

“ Let us rather think only that we are to 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 53 

carry the tidings to Mary that an effort will 
be made to release her. Surely it is right to 
seek to relieve her suffering/^ said the girl 
sweetly. 

It is in very truth, my child. Thou and 
I are not concerned in aught but in bearing 
good news ; therefore will I cheer up, sweet 
chuck, though I am greatly troubled.^’ 

And by an effort he put aside the dire fore- 
bodings that filled his soul, and tried to enter 
into the enjoyment of his daughter who, with 
the elasticity of youth, had turned to the more 
cheerful scenes around them. 

Frequently he called her attention to some 
historic spot, or pointed out the beauties of 
the sylvan landscape. And thus, sometimes 
in sweet converse in which Francis learned 
to know her father better than she had ever 
known him ; at others, in long lapses of si- 
lence the more eloquent that there was no 
conversation, and in stopping for rest and re- 
freshment at taverns did the days pass with- 
out further incident. Yet though nothing of 
import transpired, the journey was not with- 
out interest to Francis. 

Bath, on the right bank of the river Avon, 


54 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

presented a great variety of beautiful land- 
scape ; the old city of Gloucester, city of 
churches and beloved of kings ; Tewkesbury, 
site of the battle between Lancastrians and 
Yorkists which placed the crown upon the 
head of Edward the Fourth ; Worcester, with 
its glorious cathedral, filled her with delight. 
The beauty of the diversified scenery, consist- 
ing of hill, vale, forest and river, the numer- 
ous remains of Druid, British, Roman, Anglo- 
Saxon and Norman to which her father called 
her attention ; all these things contributed to 
her pleasure, and served to banish everything 
from her mind save the happiness of the mo- 
ment. 

And now, Francis,’^ said Lord Stafford on 
the evening of the fourth day, yonder lies 
Stafford, and we are near the end of our 
travel. Behold, on yon mount, called ‘ Castle 
Hill,^ the place where stood a noble castle 
built by William the Conqueror. He con- 
ferred it upon Robert de Torri who took the 
name de Stafford from whom, as thou dost 
well ken, our family hath sprung. Art thou 
weary, girl ? 

Yes, father, but the journey hath never- 


I 

IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 55 

theless been full of delight/^ returned Francis 
brightly though her drooping body spoke of 
the fatigue by which she was almost over- 
come. Yet right glad am I that we are 
come to Stafford. And on the morrow it 
may be that I shall see Queen Mary.^^ 

Mayhap, child. But now put from thee 
all thought save that of rest. Let the morrow 
bring what it will, this night shall be devoted 
to quiet and repose.’^ 

Putting spurs to his horse the tired animal 
renewed his speed, and they were soon within 
the gates of the city. 


CHAPTER VI 


A GLIMPSE OF MARY 

Francis’ wish of beholding the Queen of 
Scots was gratified in a most unexpected 
manner. 

Do you remain here, my child,” said 
Lord Stafford the next morning. I would 
behold for myself if what I have heard of 
Mary’s keeper. Sir Amyas Paulet, be true. 
If he be not so strict as report hath it, access 
to Mary may be easy. I would rather, if it 
be possible, that the matter be dispatched 
without employ of thee.” 

“ But thou wouldst still let me see Mary, 
father ? ” 

“ By my troth, I would. Thou hast well 
merited it. But now farewell for a season. 
When I return we can tell better how to con- 
clude this business.” 

'' My father, what shall I do until thy re- 
turn ? Could I not go forth to the place 
56 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 57 

where stood the castle of our ancestors? I 
would fain examine it/’ 

Lord Stafford hesitated for a moment be- 
fore replying, and then said thoughtfully : 

Thou mayst, if thou wilt. I know that I 
need not tell thee to remember that though 
thou dost wear a man’s habit thou art still in 
truth a maid, and to demean thyself in ac- 
cordance therewith. But still as thou dost 
wear the habit, more of liberty may be given 
thee than otherwise thou couldst enjoy. 
Yes ; go to Castle Hill, an thou wishest, but 
say to none what and for why we tarry in 
the town.” 

I am thy daughter, sir,” said Francis 
proudly. Thou dost deem me worthy to 
abet thy enterprises. I will so bear myself 
that thou couldst ask no more of me than if 
I were thy son.” 

No more,” said Lord Stafford smilingly. 

Thou leavest me with no regret that thou 
art not my son. A son could do no more.” 

He kissed her and left the chamber. 
Francis followed after him to the courtyard 
of the inn where she stood watching him un- 
til he was lost to view. Then drawing her 


58 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

cloak about her she left the yard, and walked 
slowly toward the eminence upon which the 
great castle formerly stood. 

The ruins were interesting and served to 
entertain the girl for some time, but at length 
becoming weary, it occurred to her to set forth 
to meet her father. 

“ It seems long since he started,’’ she mused. 

It cannot be a great while ere he returns. 
Therefore to beguile my loneliness I will go to 
meet him.” 

Passing through the gates of the town she 
struck boldly into the open plain through 
which the road ran to Chartley. On and on 
she walked, the road turning and winding 
until at length it forked ; one branch going to 
the left, the other to the right. Francis 
paused in bewilderment. 

“ Which shall I take ? ” she asked herself 
looking first at one and then at the other. 
“ My faith, but either stretches forth invit- 
ingly. I have it ! I will cast my dagger, and 
traverse that one toward which it points.” 

So saying she unsheathed a small poniard 
from her belt and drew herself up to cast the 
weapon, when the clatter of horses’ hoofs 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 59 

broke upon her ear. She looked up startled. 
From behind a bend in the road to the right 
there came at full gallop a party consisting of 
several men and a lady. Francis was so 
amazed at their sudden appearance that she 
still retained her position, the dagger poised 
ready for the throw. With a cry of horror 
the lady spurred her horse to her side. 

“ Boy,” she cried, “ what art thou about to 
do? Stay thy hand, I command. Knowest 
thou not that self-destruction is forbid? ” 

Francis gave vent to a merry peal of laugh- 
ter as the lady^s meaning flashed upon her. 

Be not dismayed, fair lady,” she said doff- 
ing her bonnet and making a deep courtesy. 

I was not planning self-destruction. Life 
holds too much of promise to end it now. I 
was but wondering which of these two roads 
led to Chartley, and thought to follow the one 
toward which a throw of the dagger would 
point.” 

The lady joined in the laugh, and then be- 
came grave. 

To Chartley ? ” she said. And what 
wouldst thou at Chartley ? ” 

It was on the tip of the girFs tongue to re- 


6o IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


ply, ** I go to meet my father,” but she caught 
herself in time. None must know of his 
journey there, and even though she who 
asked were beautiful and gracious she must 
be discreet. 

I wished to see Queen Mary,” she an- 
swered after a moment^s hesitation. 

To see Mary ? ” broke in one of the men 
who had drawn near during the above collo- 
quy. And may I ask, young sir, what busi- 
ness thou hast with Mary ? ” 

^‘Why, why,” stammered Francis abashed 
by his harsh address and rude bearing. I 
have no business. I only wished to see the 
queen.” 

Queen forsooth ! Of what is she queen ? ” 
asked the other brusquely. Of nothing, I 
trow. Not even is she mistress of her own 
actions. Queen forsooth ! ” 

Thou speakest truly, Paulet,” said the lady 
mildly. “ Yet methinks it not becoming in 
thee to taunt Mary Stuart with the miserable 
state to which she hath been reduced. Boy, 
thou didst wish to see Mary. I am she.” 

Mary ? Art thou in truth Queen Mary ? ” 
Francis exclaimed rapturously, and seeing the 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 6i 


assenting smile on the lady’s face she darted 
to her side and seizing her hand she kissed it 
fervently. Oh,” she cried, if thou art 
Mary, know that mistress of thy actions thou 
mayst not be, but thou dost reign in truth a 
queen over this poor heart.” 

The dark eyes of Mary Stuart filled with 
tears and she pressed the girl’s hand tenderly. 

Such homage is sweet to the poor captive, 
my lad. It gladdens our heart to know that 
there are some who still hold Mary in rever- 
ence. Take this and wear in remembrance of 
her who is grateful for even the homage of a 
page.” 

She drew from her neck a chain of gold to 
which was attached a locket which she threw 
over the girl’s head. With an exclamation of 
delight Francis pressed it to her lips passion- 
ately. 

It shall never leave me while life lasts,” 
she declared. But may I not wait upon you 
at your castle. Your Highness? I would be 
of service to you.” 

Her eyes sought the lady’s with a meaning 
look that Mary was quick to catch. 

Nay ; ” broke in Sir Amyas Paulet for 


62 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


the grufiP old puritan was very rigid with 
his illustrious captive. “ Thou hast had thy 
wish, boy, and obtained what was doubtless 
thy object : a chain for a kiss, a locket for an 
obeisance. It pays to give court to reduced 
royalty. Away with thee, and let me not see 
thy face at Chartley, else thou shalt meet a 
gruff reception.’’ 

Then farewell.” Francis drew as close to 
the lady’s side as she could. “ There are 
letters,” she whispered. 

Away ! ” Sir Amyas laid a hand upon the 
bridle of Mary’s horse and turned the animal 
from the girl. I will have no whisperings. 
Away, boy ! ” 

Be not overcome, my pretty lad,” and 
Mary drew rein despite the protests of her 
uncivil guardian. “We thank thee for thy 
homage, and hope to see thee again when we 
journey forth. Farewell.” 

“ Farewell,” returned Francis sinking upon 
one knee and saluting her. “ I will see you 
again. Your Grace.” 

With an impatient exclamation Sir Amyas 
Paulet gave a sharp blow to Mary’s horse, 
which reared and plunged at the treatment, 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 63 

almost unseating the lady, able horsewoman 
though she was. The animal then dashed 
away followed by the grim old puritan and 
the remainder of the party who had halted 
at some little distance from them. 

As soon as they were out of sight Francis 
took the locket in her hand. 

“ And I have seen Mary,'' she said with 
gladness. “ How it will surprise my father. 
How beautiful is the locket, and how full of 
graciousness and sweetness she is ! Service 
in her behalf must be a joy." 

She turned and retraced her steps toward 
Stafford unmindful of the fact that she had 
started to meet her father. 

It had been morning when Lord Stafford 
had left his daughter ; the sun was declining 
in the west when, discouraged and low in 
spirit, he returned to the tavern ! 

It is even worse than report hath it," 
he said as he entered the apartment where 
Francis awaited him. Chartley is as much 
a prison for Mary as the tower itself would 
be. When I sought admission to its gates I 
was refused and threatened, forsooth. The 
manor is surrounded by a moat and is well 


64 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

defended. The walls can be scaled only by 
birds. Methinks that there is cause for Bab- 
ington^s wild frenzy.’^ 

Father/^ spoke Francis demurely, though 
there was exultation in her tones, I saw 
Mary.'' 

‘‘ My child, what do you say ? " ejaculated 
Lord Stafford in surprise. “ How couldst 
thou ? You were not at Chartley." 

“ Nathless I saw the queen," and Francis 
laughed gleefully. ‘‘ See what she graciously 
gave me." 

Her father took the chain and locket in 
his hands and examined them closely. 

“ It doth indeed come from Mary," he said 
looking at the name, Marie R, engraved 
upon it. Thou hast accomplished won- 
ders, Francis. Tell me how the matter fell 
out?" 

Francis related all that had happened. 
Lord Stafford listened intently. 

Sir Amy as is an austere jailer," he ob- 
served. He thinketh to do his duty more 
acceptably to Elizabeth by treating Mary with 
rigor. Mary is quick of wit, and I doubt not 
that this will put her on the alert. Child, I 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 65 

must trust to thy wit to help me in this. 
Canst thou compass it ? 

“ I am sure so/^ answered Francis with the 
confidence of youth. To-morrow I will 
again repair to the forked roads, and mayhap 
she will be there. 

“ Mayhap,” said her father, but I mis- 
doubt it. Paulet may be suspicious of thee, 
but Twill do no harm to be there. We will 
try to get the letters to her, but if we do 
not succeed then must Ballard, or Captain 
Fortescue as he calls himself, find some other 
means of communicating with her.” 

We will succeed. Never fear,” said 
Francis with conviction. 


CHAPTER VII 


FRANCIS TO THE FRONT 

The next morning Francis was early at the 
crossroads but although she waited for several 
hours neither Mary nor any of her party ap- 
peared. 

It is as I thought it would be/^ said Lord 
Stafford, but we must not be discouraged. 
You must go to the same place for several days. 
I feel sure that if Mary can compass it she 
will fare that way again. It is our only hope 
of opening up communication with her.^^ 
Three more days passed without result, but 
on the morning of the fourth day a cavalcade 
appeared. Francis was delighted to see Mary 
in their midst. Not as before on a horse but 
in a coach. As she stood with uncovered 
head the party swept by her without stop- 
ping. The queen bowed and smiled, but 
when the girl would have darted to the side 
of the coach she was prevented by the gentle- 
men of the guard who closed around it. 

66 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 67 

“ Oh/’ cried the girl, tears of disappoint- 
ment streaming from her eyes, “ what shall I 
do? What can I do?” But the equipage 
swept on bearing Mary from her sight and 
Francis gave way to her grief unrestrainedly. 

And I thought to have done so much,” 
she murmured when she had become calm. 

Ah ! my father did well to say that Sir 
Amyas was an austere man. Little doth it 
comfort Mary to be a queen when there is 
such an one to control her actions. Well, I 
must to the inn.” 

She turned to go back to the town when 
her eye was caught by a filmy bit of linen 
which was caught in a bush by the wayside. 

Twas hers,” cried Francis catching it up 
eagerly. How foolish to repine when I 
should have known that there would be some 
sign.” 

Examining the dainty bit of cloth carefully 
she found it covered over with a lot of 
characters whose meaning she could not 
fathom. 

I must take it to my father,” she said con- 
cealing the linen in her bosom. Mayhap he 
can decipher it.” And she hastened to return 


68 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


to the tavern joyful at having obtained at 
least a token. 

It is Avritten in cipher/^ remarked Lord 
Stafford, examining the bit of cloth atten- 
tively. “ It is my good fortune to have 
the key to some of the ciphers which she uses. 
It may be that it is the one that will un- 
ravel the meaning of this for us.” 

Francis awaited the result with impatience 
while her father applied himself to the task 
of deciphering the characters. Presently he 
looked up triumphantly. 

“ I have it, child. Mary is in truth on the 
alert. She knows that we have messages for 
her. Listen ! she says : ‘ I find no security in 
writing by carrier ; the best recipe for secret 
writing is alum dissolved in a little clear water 
twenty-four hours before it is required to write 
with. In order to read it the paper must be 
wetted in a basin of water and then held to 
the fire ; the secret writing then appears white 
and may easily be read until the paper gets 
dry. You may write in this manner on white 
taffeta or white linen, especially lawn ; and 
as a token when anything is written on a 
piece of taffeta or linen a little snip can be cut 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 69 

off from one of the corners. Friend, if so be 
that you have letters, transcribe their message 
in the above manner. As to the manner of 
their delivery I know not. I will this way as 
often as the disposition of my jailer will per- 
mit. Adieu, my friend — though I know not 
thy name, yet thy features are engraved upon 
the heart of your queen, 

' Marie, Royne.' 

There ! Lord Stafford smoothed the 
piece of cloth complacently. ‘‘The thing 
that troubles is how to give her the papers 
and letters. Tis my belief that they would 
be as easy to deliver as to transcribe their con- 
tents upon cloth to give her. She must be 
made aware of the plan for her rescue.” 

“ What is the plan, father? ” 

“ To overwhelm her escort while she is tak- 
ing the air, child. Babington is to come with 
one hundred men and carry Mary off. Her 
escort seldom consists of more than eighteen 
or twenty men, and we think she might be 
easily taken from them.” 

“ But would not other of Sir Amyas's men 
follow after and retake her? ” 

“We hope to place her in a secure spot ere 


70 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

they could do so, Francis. Once across the 
border Elizabeth would have no power over 
her, and her son, unfilial though he hath 
shown himself, could not for very shame re- 
fuse her safe asylum. Then she might, if she 
would so choose, retire to France where she 
could dwell in peace.’^ 

She must have those letters, my father.” 

“Yes, Francis ; but how? My mind plays 
me false when I would discover a way. It is 
not active. We must think, think, Francis.” 

Francis arose and walked to the win- 
dow where she stood abstractedly looking 
through the lattice which overhung a large 
yard, surrounded by the stables of the hos- 
telry. Some yeomen were dressing their own 
or their masters^ horses, whistling, singing and 
laughing. Suddenly she bent forward 
eagerly. 

“ My father,” she cried, “ prithee come 
here ! ” 

“ What is it, Francis? ” asked Lord Stafford 
joining her. 

“ Dost see the boy on the cart that has just 
entered the yard ? ” 

“ Yes.” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 71 

“ What is he, think you ? 

My child, he is a carter. What doth 
make thee so full of interest in him ? 

Might it not be that as a carter he would 
go to Chartley sometimes? 

Gramercy I I see thy meaning. How 
full of wit thou art I” 

Francis smiled, much gratified. 

If it can be compassed would it not be 
excellent to enter Chartley as a carter ? The 
thing is to get within the gates. Then the 
delivery of the letters would be easy.^^ 

Tis excellently thought of, child, but 
there are guards within as well. ’Twould 
still require adroitness to accomplish the 
rest.” 

Trust me ! If I can get within, the rest 
shall follow,” said she with great determina- 
tion. I will enter into talk with that carter 
and see what can be done with him. My 
father, do I bear myself in a manner be- 
fitting my garb ? ” 

Thou art a very model of pagehood, Fran- 
cis. Go, my child. Heavy as the burden 
of this emprise is it seems to have shifted 
its weight to thy shoulders. Find if the lad 


72 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

goes to Chartley, and if so, the way may 
be opened for us to enter therein. Divers 
means must be employed to accomplish our 
aims.^^ 

The girl left the chamber and, assuming 
the careless frowardness of a page, sauntered 
into the yard. 

“ Good-morrow, my lad,^^ she said, stopping 
by the side of the boy who was busily engaged 
in removing sacks, baskets and other recep- 
tacles from the cart. 

“ Good-morrow, young sir,’^ returned the 
wight civilly. It hath been some days since 
I saw your worshipful sir. Methought that 
you had gone away.’^ 

Nay ; I tarry here still for there is good 
cheer to be found at the Red Hand,^’ quoth 
Francis with a bold swagger. How busy 
thou art.^^ 

“ Yes ; the likes o’ us have to be. What 
with loading the cart, delivering, and unload- 
ing again, and caring for the nag I find the 
time full.” 

And where doth it all go, lad ? ” 

To Chartley, sir.” 

Chartley ? Is not that where Mary of 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 73 

Scotland is confined?’’ asked Francis, trying 
to speak indifferently. 

“ The very place.” 

‘‘ Didst ever see her, boy ? ” 

“ Why, yes, my young master. Many a 
time and oft since she hath been at Chartley. 
She takes the air in the early morning in the 
gardens and I have seen her there when I 
drove in with my cart.” 

I would that I might see her. Could I — 
could I go with you ? ” 

The youth stared for a moment and then 
answered soberly : 

It is forbid to us to carry aught besides 
our wares within the gates. And Sir Amyas is 
that particular that I misdoubt if he would 
let you enter.” 

Still I would like to try. ’Tis only for a 
sight of the queen. And see 1 here is a gold 
piece that thou canst have. Do let me go with 
thee. Will. Thy name is Will ? ” 

That is my name, sir.” Will’s hand 
closed over the gold but he still appeared re- 
luctant. Well, it shall be as you wish, my 
young master. But you must wear other 
garb than that, else you cannot enter.” 


74 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

What habit shall I wear, good Will ? ” 

“ I will give thee my cloak and bonnet, 
master. I durst not do this if thou shouldst 
want else but to look at the queen. But what 
harm is there in that? 

What in truth. Will ? A cat may look at 
a king, I trow. When do you go again ? 

To-morrow. Wouldst go then ? 

Ay, Will.’^ 

Then, my master, you must be up with 
the lark for we start early.’’ 

I will be ready. Then farewell until then. 
Thou wilt not regret thy favor to me. Will, I 
promise thee.” 

I hope not, master.” 

Thou wilt not. Farewell till the morrow.” 
And Francis ran lightly back to her father 
to report the result of the interview. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE DELIVERY OF THE LETTERS 

Will was disposed to be taciturn on the 
way to Chartley. Francis did not know 
whether he suspected her design was more 
than to see Mary or not, but summoning all 
the finesse of which she was mistress she made 
herself as agreeable as she could, relating 
stories and incidents of the chase, until long 
before the plain which lay between Stafford 
and Chartley was crossed, WilTs surliness had 
vanished. 

The sun was an hour high when they 
reached their destination. Chartley, grim 
and gray in the morning light, rose before 
them. The manor was large and roomy, sur- 
rounded by such a high wall that none, unless 
he were endowed with the wings of a bird, 
could scale its heights. A moat encompassed 
the whole. The castle with wall and moat 
forming a stronghold well suited to its present 
use as prison. 


75 


76 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

As they crossed the drawbridge and entered 
the portals Francis was surprised to see senti- 
nels everywhere. Her spirit sank a little and 
her heart quailed as she noted all of the 
means employed to insure Mary’s safe-keeping. 

“ My father was right,” she thought. To 
obtain entrance is not all. There will still be 
difficulty, I fear, in seeing her. What if she 
comes not to the garden ? But courage ! 
Poor lady ! I marvel not that she doth wish 
to gain her liberty. Methinks I should die 
were I to be deprived of my freedom ! ” Thus 
she mused little dreaming that not many 
weeks would elapse ere she would be put to 
the test. 

There are the gardens,” said Will break- 
ing in upon her thoughts. ’Tis there that I 
have often seen the queen. See, the guard is 
leaving.” 

“ Don’t they guard her through the day. 
Will?” 

Ay, master. But the sentinels stand not 
at the doors and windows as they do at night. 
The walls only are guarded through the day. 
There she is, forsooth.” 

I see her not, good Will.” 









r)UERN MARY'S IV IT GRASPED 
THE SI Tl A TION 






I 




'■'I 







•f 


I 


1 


4 




f 



|l 






« 


, » 


•■ <4 


«1r: 


* 


■% 



4 



k 


*'%- 


i 

^ ■ 


f 

r 

if 



.J 


I ^ ♦ 



« 


K. 


f 

j 


t 

^ I 





\ 

\ 


•i 

K 

s 

J A 


« 




F 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 77 

‘‘ In the main garden, master. To the 
right.” 

Francis looked in the direction indicated 
and soon descried the form of a woman 
seated in a large rolling chair which was 
wheeled by an attendant. Along the walks 
of the garden they went pausing ever and 
anon to pluck some flower or the cherries 
which were ripening in the sun. For a mo- 
ment only Francis gazed and then, before 
Will had time to say her nay, she leaped off* 
from the wagon and bounded swiftly in the 
direction of the garden. 

^^Uds!” growled Will his muouth agape 
with astonishment. Methought there was 
more to ^t than appeared,” and he went on to 
the kitchens. 

Meantime Francis, trampling over flowers 
and vegetables in her haste, reached the side 
of Mary, and thrust into her hand the pack- 
age of letters. Mary’s quick wit grasped the 
situation instantly. Concealing the papers 
about her she drew back from the seeming 
carter, crying in a loud voice for she saw one 
of the guards approaching : 

Well, what meaneth this? Forgive me,” 


78 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

she whispered hurriedly, if I seem angry. 
’Tis but for thine own safety. So saying she 
drew back still further from the kneeling girl 
exclaiming as the guard came up, “ I know 
thee not, boy. Why dost thou trouble me ? 

I wished to see thee,^^ murmured Francis 
rising. “ Forgive me. I wished 

There ! said Mary. ’Tis no matter. 
Barbara,” to her companion, hast thou the 
purse ? Give the lad a groat. Marry ! thou 
art all alike. Ye wish bounty whether ye de- 
serve it or not. Go, and trouble me no more.” 

She turned as she spoke and without an- 
other glance at the girl passed back to the 
house. Francis stood looking at the coin for 
a moment undecided what to do for she saw 
that Will’s cart was nowhere in sight. 

Get thee gone,” said the guard coming to- 
ward her menacingly. He had overheard 
Mary’s remarks and noted her demeanor, and 
thought that the carter lad before him was 
really seeking to profit by Mary’s well-known 
generosity. Go, fellow ! or I will take thee 
to my master. And if thou troublest the 
lady again, I will run thee through with my 
rapier. Go I ” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 79 

Without a word in reply, glad to have the 
matter end so, Francis followed him meekly 
as he led her to the kitchen doors where Will 
and other carters were busy unloading their 
wagons. 

With which of you came this fellow ? 
demanded the guard. 

With me, master,’^ spoke Will sullenly. 

“ See that he accompanies thee no more. 
Tis a mischievous wight and like to get into 
trouble. Quick with thy load. I wish to 
see thy cart safely beyond the gates. 

Will,’^ said Francis when they were once 
more outside the gates, “ art angry with 
meV^ 

“ Ay ! ’twere an ill turn that thou did 
serve me,^’ growled Will. Twere an ill 
turn, master.” 

“ Forgive me, and you shall have this groat 
that the queen gave me,” and Francis handed 
him the coin. “ My lord, I know, will give 
me more to give thee.” 

“Well, mayhap it be all right,” said Will 
somewhat mollified, “but you go no more, 
young master.” 

“ No, Will ; I will not ask it of thee. I 


8o IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


have both seen and spoken with the lady. 
What more need I ? 

No more, 111 be bound, master, growled 
Will. There was more ini than seeing and 
speaking. 111 warrant. But I ken none of it. 
Here we are at Stafford, master.” 

I thank you. Will, for your courtesy,” 
said Francis sweetly as she left him. 

Lord Stafford was awaiting her return anx- 
iously. He folded her close to his breast as 
she entered his chamber, saying earnestly : 

“ Thank Heaven, my daughter, that thou 
hast returned safely to me. Not for all the 
queens in the world would I have thee ad- 
venture such a thing again.” 

“ Why, Iwas naught,” laughed the girl. 

Mary hath the letters now. Twas not hard 
to give them after all.” She recounted the 
whole affair. 

“Well hast thou done, my child. There 
will need to be further communication with 
Mary, but not from us. We have done our 
part. No more of plots or conspiracies will I 
have, and never again will I subject thee to 
such danger. Now we will wend homeward 
to allay the anxiety of thy mother. When- 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 8i 


ever I have need of a quick wit and a nimble 
brain I will call on thee/' 

Glad am I to have pleased thee," returned 
Francis. There is naught that I would not 
undertake for thee, my father." 

I believe it, Francis." 

The next morning early they set forth on 
the return journey. Lord Stafford seemed to 
have thrown aside the weight of misgiving 
that had oppressed him on his way thither, 
and was full of the gayest spirits. With 
laughter and story did he beguile the way, 
and once as he jestingly spoke of her attire, 
he said laughingly, 

Listen, Francis, and I will tell thee of 
another such an one. Hast thou ever heard 
how the serving man became a queen ? " 

^^The serving man a queen?" cried the 
girl. Why how could that be, father? " 
Listen, and you shall hear." In a rich 
full voice he trolled the following ballad : 

THE FAMOUS FLOWER OF SERVING MEN 
“ You beauteous ladyes, great and small, 

I write unto you one and all. 

Whereby that you may understand 
What I have suffered in the land. 


82 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


“ I was by birth a lady faire. 

An ancient baron’s only heire. 

And when my goode old father died 
Then I became a young knight’s bride. 


** And then my love built me a bower. 
Bedecked with many a fragrant flower ; 
A braver bower you ne’er did see 
Than my true love did build for me. 


“ And there I lived a lady gay 
Till fortune wrought my love’s decay ; 
For there came foes so fierce a band. 
That soon they overran the land. 


** They came upon us in the night, 

And rent my bower and slew my knight ; 
And trembling hid in man’s array, 

I scarce with life escaped away. 

** Yet though my heart was full of care. 
Heaven would not suffer me to despair ; 
Wherefore in haste I changed my name 
From fair Elise to Sweet Williame. 

** And then withal I cut my hair. 

Resolv’d my man’s attire to wear; 

And in my beaver, hose and band, 

I travel’d far through many a land. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 83 

“ At length all wearied with my toil, 

I sate me down to rest awhile ; 

My heart it was so filled with woe. 

That down my cheeks the tears did flow. 


“ It chanced the king of that same place. 
With all his lords a hunting was. 

And seeing me weep, upon the same 
Askt who I was, and whence I came. 

“ Then to His Grace I did reply, 

‘ I am a poor and friendless boy. 
Though nobly bom, now forc’d to be 
A serving man of low degree.* 


“ ' Stand up, fair youth,* the king reply’d. 

For thee a service 1*11 provide ; 

But tell me first what thou canst do 
Thou shalt be fitted thereunto. 

“ * Chuse, gentle youth,* said he, ‘ thy place,* 
Then I reply ’d, ‘ If it please Your Grace, 
To show such favor unto me. 

Your chamberlain I fain would be.* 

" Now mark what fortune did provide ; 

The king he would a hunting ride 
With all his lords and noble train. 

Sweet Williame must at home remain. 


84 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

** And meeting with a ladye’s vest. 

Within the same myself I drest ; 

With silken robes and jewels rare, 

1 deckt me as a lady faire. 


“ And taking up a lute straitway. 

Upon the same I strove to play ; 

And sweetly to the same did sing. 

As made both hall and chamber ring : 


“ ' My father was as brave a lord. 

As ever Europe might afford ; 

My mother was a lady bright : 
My husband was a valiant knight. 


** * But now, alas ! my husband’s dead. 
And all my friends are from me fled. 
My former days are past and gone. 
And I am now a serving man.’ 

“ The king who had a hunting gone. 
Grew weary of his sport anon. 

And leaving all his gallant train. 
Turn’d on the sudden home again. 


“ And when he reached his statlye tower. 
Hearing one sing within his bower. 

He stopt to listen and to see 
Who sang there so melodiouslie. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 85 

** A crimson dye my face orespred, 

I blush’d for shame and hung my head. 

To find my sex and story known. 

When as I thought I was alone. 

“ * Faire ladye, pardon me,’ says he, 

‘ Thy virtue shall rewarded be. 

And since it is so fairly tryde. 

Thou shalt become my royal bride.* 

“ Then strait to end his loving strife 
He took Sweet Williame for his wife. 

The like before was never seen, 

A serving man become a queen.” 


Francis laughed merrily when he finished. 

Poor Williame ! but it ended well after 
all. Well, my days for man^s attire will 
soon be o^er.^^ 

“ Tis to be hoped so,^^ answered her father. 

Though the dress well becomes thee.’^ 

At length, though they had returned by 
easier stages than they had performed the 
journey to Stafford, Lyndhurst was reached, 
and soon the turrets of Stafford Hall became 
visible. 

Home again, my child, spoke Lord 
Stafford cheerily. Right glad am I to enter 


86 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


its gates once more. How is it with thee, 
Francis ? Thou hast fared widely. Dost 
still revere thy home ? 

More than ever, my father. Never have 
I seen it look so beautiful. Even the stones 
seem to smile a welcome. 

Marry, there stands my lady wife ! Look, 
she sees us.’^ 

With a cry of joy the lady ran to greet 
them. 

“Ye are safe,^^ she cried embracing them. 
“ Ah, but it hath been long, long since ye left. 
Methought something had befallen you.” 

“ No ; my sweet wife. Weary we may be 
with the journey, and ready for the good 
cheer which we know awaits us, but well 
otherwise. How now, sweet chuck? Thou 
art pale, and even though thou hast us safe 
with thee, yet doth thy lip still quiver, and 
thy form tremble. What is it ? Speak, 
madam, I beseech thee.” 

“ My lord, I wot not what to think of it, 
but to-day a messenger came from the queen 
saying that Elizabeth in her royal progress 
through Hampshire would honor us with a 
visit.” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 87 

‘‘ Elizabeth here ? cried Lord Stafford in 
astonishment. “ Art sure ? 

Sure, my lord. What doth it portend ? 
Is there hidden menace in the fact? Doth 
she suspect, think you, that Ballard hath been 
here? My lord, what can it mean ? ” 

“ Madam, I know not. We are her subjects. 
If Her Majesty chooses to visit us we can but 
receive her. But look not so pale. Tis but 
a matter of a few days^ entertainment, and 
surely we would do ill to be churlish of them. 
It is not the first time that royalty hath hon- 
ored Stafford. Right well do I remember that 
Henry, Elizabeth’s bluff old father, favored 
us with a visit. With his own hand he 
brought down many a fat buck in yon forest 
park. Right well pleased was my father with 
that visit.” 

True, my lord ; but he had favor with 
Henry, and had naught to fear.” 

‘‘And what is there to fear from his 
daughter? We must bestir ourselves to give 
the queen most royal welcome. Here she 
will not find the ‘ princely pleasures of 
Kenilworth,’ but nathless ! hearty welcome 
and good cheer are much even to a queen. 


88 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


How now, girl ! Thou dost not look dis- 
pleased ? 

Neither am I, good my father,’^ spoke 
Francis quickly. With the natural instinct 
of youth she delighted at the prospect of the 
pleasures in store. Glad will I be to see the 
queen even though she be old and not so 
beautiful as Mary.’^ 

“ Beshrew me, girl ! let no such words pass 
thy lips,’^ cried her father in consternation. 

’Twere treason, forsooth.’’ 

“ Have no fear. I will speak naught of 
that order to any save thee and my lady 
mother. Discreet am I and full of matter, 
but nothing will I disclose.” 

“ Thou hast need to be discreet,” replied her 
mother. Be not malapert and froward, 
child.” 

“ Said the messenger when she was com- 
ing ? ” now asked the nobleman. 

On the third day from this, my lord.” 

’Tis but short notice for what must be 
done,” mused Lord Stafford. “ Supplies must 
be obtained for the queen’s retinue, and pag- 
eants prepared to amuse her. Call Greville, 
my wife. Bid him hasten to the presence 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 89 

chamber. Francis, repair to thy chamber and 
rest. Thou dost merit it. It will be thy part, 
madam, to attend to the ordering of the royal 
apartments. As for me there will be much to 
employ me during the next few days. Pray 
Heaven, that Ballard come not during the 
festivities.” 


CHAPTER IX 


THE COMING OF ELIZABETH 

The days that followed were full of bustle 
and activity. The officers of the household 
scoured the country far and near to secure 
provisions and delicacies sufficient for the 
queen and her retinue. Game, droves of bul- 
locks, sheep, hogs and great hampers of gro- 
ceries filled the larders to overflowing. Near 
and remote neighbors and kinsmen embraced 
the opportunity to send contributions. No 
man knew when his own time might come 
and sympathized accordingly. The queen 
was not tolerant of any but a royal reception, 
and a visit, while an honor, was not always 
an unmixed blessing ; as many an impover- 
ished nobleman could testify. 

Hugh Greville, the tutor, was overjoyed at 
her coming, and, as master of the pageants 
preparing for the amusement of the queen, 
assumed a pompous importance greatly at 
variance with his usual manner. 


90 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 91 

We must have a play, my lord,’^ he said 
to Lord Stafford who was for the moment 
idle. Her Majesty doth take delight in a 
play. This to be preceded by an address 
in Latin. Latin, my lord, because the queen 
is learned, and deference should be paid to 
her knowledge. The welcome to be spoken 
by a boy.^’ 

Have what thou wilt, Greville, so that it 
will please the queen, returned the noble- 
man. I had word from my Lord of Leices- 
ter this morning that his mummers accom- 
panied Elizabeth in her progress. They will 
give the play with more of satisfaction, I trow, 
than any of the strolling players who have 
come hither. The address of welcome could 
be managed, but what boy couldst thou get to 
deliver it? Boys there be in plenty, but boys 

with Latinity and he shrugged his 

shoulders. 

Had your lordship only a son,’’ sighed 
Greville regretfully, it would be right fitting 
for him to give the speech. I myself would 
write it. ’Twould only need to be conned 
well. Ah, would that thou hadst a son I ” 

Gramercy I ” spoke Francis overhearing 


92 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

the tutor’s speech. Hath he not a daughter ? 
I will give thy harangue, Master Greville.” 

“ Nay ; ” and the old man shook his head 
positively. ’Twill not do, Francis. The 
Queen’s Majesty would relish it more if ’twere 
spoken by a lad. Her heart inclineth to 
them. A pretty lad, for she loves beauty. 
Marry ! ’tis pity thou art a girl ! ” 

Father,” Francis spoke quickly, a roguish 
light coming into her eyes, ** I could put on 
the page’s dress again, and who would be 
the wiser? Not the queen, I trow, for she 
doth not know whether or no thou hast a 
son.” 

“If it might be,” said Greville eagerly. 
“ The girl is brighter than most lads, and 
could quickly con the speech. What say 
you, my lord ? ” 

“ Let the child have her way in this, my 
lord,” spoke Lady Stafford joining them. 
“ Did she not don the garb to please thee ? 
Now that it be for her pleasure deny her not, 
I entreat.” 

“ When thou pleadest for her, madam, I 
cannot deny,” said her husband slowly. “ I 
thought never to see thee in such dress again. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 93 

Francis. There seemed necessity for it be- 
fore. Now ” 

“ Now there is necessity also/’ broke in 
Francis. “ Shall the queen go without her 
welcome for the want of a boy ? I trow not, 
when Francis Stafford makes so good an one. 
Fear not, my father. I have become so ac- 
customed to the dress that each day do I don 
it. And ’tis but sport.” 

“ Have thine own way,” said Lord Stafford 
resignedly. “ Do but honor the queen, and I 
will not inquire too closely concerning the 
manner.” 

Pleased at receiving the permission, Francis 
applied herself to memorizing the speech pre- 
pared by the tutor while the other prepara- 
tions went on royally. Elizabeth was to ar- 
rive in the afternoon, and on the morning of 
that day her master of horse, the Earl of 
Leicester, with his stepson, the Earl of 
Essex, came to see that everything was in 
readiness. Then in company with Lord Staf- 
ford they went forth to escort the queen to 
the Hall. 

A great concourse of people stood without 
the gates. Lord Stafford’s retainers were 


94 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

drawn up on either side of the base court 
ready to shout a welcome so soon as the queen 
appeared. At the top of the stairs leading to 
the terrace stood Francis arrayed in doublet 
and hose of purple velvet. A short cloak of 
the material hung gracefully from her shoul- 
ders. A purple velvet bonnet with a long 
white feather crowned her head. Her curls 
were blown about her cheeks by the breeze ; 
her color was coming and going for she was 
somewhat dismayed at the magnitude of the 
task she had set herself. Stories that she had 
heard of the great queen ^s anger at those who 
failed to perform well their parts rushed to 
her mind and almost overwhelmed her with 
confusion. 

“ Courage,” whispered Greville who stood 
near her. “ Courage, girl. Remember who 
thou art, and whom thou art to welcome. 
Do thy father credit, else I will repent me of 
having intrusted so important a duty to thee.” 

I will, good cousin,” returned Francis her 
spirit rising at his words. “ Not even the 
presence of the queen shall make me forget 
what is due my father. But hark ! ” 

A blare of trumpets sounded without the 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 95 

gates. The bell in the tower, used only upon 
great occasions, pealed forth merrily. The 
musicians stationed in court, terrace, and hall 
struck up, and viols, sackbuts, cornets and 
recorders sounded, while from the retainers 
and people who thronged the roads and the 
court there went up a great shout of acclama- 
tion as a glittering cavalcade appeared. 

The dresses of the courtiers were a blaze of 
splendor remarkable even in that imaginative 
age. First rode the Earl of Leicester, mag- 
nificent in black satin, his horse richly capar- 
isoned with embroidered furnishings. On 
the right of the queen was the Earl of Essex 
resplendent in cloth of silver. Upon her left, 
rode Sir Walter Raleigh gorgeous in white 
satin raiment. Back of them came the ladies 
of the court, maids of honor, and the gentle- 
men. In the midst of all these was the one 
upon whom all eyes were bent — Elizabeth. 
She was attired in white silk bordered with 
pearls the size of beans, and over it a mantle 
of black silk shot with silver threads. In- 
stead of a chain she had an oblong collar of 
gold and jewels. Her air was stately, and as 
she passed along in great state and magnifi- 


96 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

cence, she bowed graciously first to one side 
and then to the other. Wherever she turned 
her face the people fell upon their knees, 
crying, — “ God save the queen, Elizabeth ! 
To which she replied, — I thank you, my 
good people. 

At the foot of the terrace she alighted from 
her chariot, and, escorted by Lord Stafford, 
ascended the steps and approached the place 
where Francis stood. The girl gazed at her 
earnestly, mentally contrasting her with Mary 
of Scotland. 

Elizabeth was very stately though her 
stature was not great ; her face, oblong, fair 
but wrinkled ; her eyes small, yet black and 
pleasant ; her nose a little hooked ; her lips 
narrow and compressed ; her teeth black as 
were most of the ladies’ teeth at that period 
from the excessive use of sugar. She wore a 
wig of false red hair ; and upon her head sat 
a small crown of gold reported to be made of 
some of the celebrated Lunebourg table. 
When she reached the terrace two cannons 
were shot off ; the one filled with a sweet 
powder ; the other with sweet water, odorifer- 
ous and pleasant ; the firing being imitated 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 97 

by a crash of instruments. When the noise 
of these had died away Francis stepped 
forward, and began timidly, gaining self-pos- 
session as she proceeded : 

** Oh Excellent Queen ! true adamant of hearts. 

Out of that sacred garland ever grew 
Garlands of virtues, beauties, and perfections. 

That crowns your crown, and dims your fortune’s beams. 
Welcome, and thrice welcome ! 


O lady, that doth ennoble the title you 
possess, with the honor of your worthiness, 
rather crowning the great crown that derives 
fame from having so excellent an owner, than 
you receiving to yourself any ornament there- 
from ; vouchsafe with patient attention to 
hear the words which I, by commandment, 
am here to deliver unto you. Disdain not to 
smile upon our feeble efforts to entertain you, 
yet do I dare warrant myself so far upon the 
show of rare beauty, as that malice cannot 
fall from so fair a mind. Welcome ! This 
hall and all it contains are yours. Do with 
them as you list, fair queen, but oh, disdain 
not to breathe your favor upon us. Welcome 
and thrice welcome to these portals ! Loving 


98 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

hearts greet you, and declare you queen of 
them as well as of Love and Beauty.’^ 

Elizabeth listened smilingly, and as the girl 
concluded she passed her hand over her 
auburn curls saying affably : 

Well done, thou pretty lad ! I like well 
the spirit as well as the delivery of it. Thy 
Latinity holds much to be commended. And 
what may be thy name ? 

“ Francis Stafford, may it please Your 
Grace.” 

It does please me. Francis? Ah, well 
do I ken that was the name of thy father, my 
lord,” and she turned to Lord Stafford. 

“ You speak aright. Your Highness,” 
answered he. 

“ Thou shalt come to me anon, thou pretty 
lad, for I would speak with thee further,” 
said the queen as she moved away. Hast 
thou other children, my lord ? ” 

“ This is mine only one,” replied Lord 
Stafford. 

And was the welcome of your compos- 
ing ? ” queried she. 

Nay ; I am not so ready with the pen,” 
laughed Stafford. I am not a Sidney, my 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 99 

liege. Greville did it. Dost remember 
him? 

Assuredly. Where is he? Ah, Greville,^' 
as the tutor overwhelmed with rapture at her 
notice, threw himself on his knees before her, 
and seizing the hand which she graciously 
extended to him, covered it with kisses. 

Art well ? 

Ah, madam, madam,^^ murmured the 
old man, can you ask that when it hath 
been so long since I have been in your pres- 
ence ? As well expect the flower to flourish 
without the rays of the sun.^^ 

“ There, flatterer,’^ said the queen tapping 
him lightly on the shoulder to Francis^ 
amazement for she expected her to take no 
notice of such adulation. Thou must come 
to the court oftener, Greville.^’ 

Greville arose as she passed on, his face 
aglow with gratiflcation. 

“ Child, is she not the most gracious, the 
most lovely of sovereigns?’' he whispered to 
Francis. 

Gracious, I grant thee, cousin ; but lovely, 
no. My mother is fairer by far than she.” 

Hark ye, lad,” said a courtier who had 

l.rfC 


loo IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


overheard the girl’s words, a hint in thine 
ear : repeat not that speech. Nay ; think it 
not even. It behooves thee, and me, and all 
of us to believe that the queen is the loveliest, 
the fairest, and the most learned of all women, 
bar none ; which she is. God bless her ! ” 

“ God bless Elizabeth,” echoed Greville 
fervently, but Francis, with a haughty look 
at the speaker, turned upon her heel, and 
entered the hall. 


CHAPTER X 


THE QUEEN TAKES OFFENSE 

The queen at length reached the great hall 
of the castle, gorgeously hung with tapestries 
for her reception, and resounding to the 
strains of soft and delicious music. At the 
upper end of the chamber was a throne and 
beside it a door which opened into a suite of 
apartments for the queen whenever it should 
be her pleasure to be private. The hall was 
thronged with spectators, for a masque was to 
be given, and menials as well as courtiers 
were interested in the pageant. 

Francis mingled with the crowd purposing 
to retire very soon to her bower to don habit 
more befitting her sex, but enjoying for the 
nonce the freedom which her garb gave her. 
Presently she felt her cloak twitched as some 
one said : 

“ Where is your sister, sir ? I see her not 
among those who attend the queen.” 

My sister ? ” The girl wheeled about, 

lOl 


102 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


and uttered an exclamation of amazement 
as she recognized the speaker. “ What dost 
thou here ? ” she demanded sternly. And 
why art thou in that attire ? 

The boy, for it was the lad who had shot 
the deer in the chase, gave vent to a low 
laugh. 

I came to see the queen. Why should I 
not? I am her leal and true subject, which 
is more than thou canst say even if thou 
didst rattle off her welcome so glibly in 
Latin. As for my dress, it is my own. Why 
should I not wear it. Master Stafford ? 

“ I am as true a subject to the queen as 
thou art,” retorted Francis. Why art thou 
here ? Thou shouldst be in durance for the 
deer which thou didst shoot in the forest,” 
and a sneer curled her lips. 

“ So she told you of it,” exclaimed the 
lad. 

^‘She? Whom mean you?” queried 
Francis in bewilderment. 

Thy sister, stupid. How else couldst 
thou have known of the deer? Truly, thou 
art as much like her as one pea is to another. 
Should you but don her frock there would 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 103 

be none that could tell ye apart. Where is 
she?^^ 

Francis laughed outright as the lad’s mis- 
take dawned upon her, and a merry twinkle 
came into her eyes. 

“ My sister is occupied,” she answered 
mischievously. “ Marry ! it were well for 
thee that it was she with whom thou didst 
dispute over the deer. But thou hast been 
punished enough, else I would not let thee 
leave this hall before thou wouldst feel the 
weight of my whip.” 

Beshrew me, I like not thy brag,” cried 
the other angrily. Know, Master Stafford, 
that I was not punished. So soon as the 
keepers found who and what I was they 
made apology for treating me in such an 
unmannerly fashion, and brought me the 
horns of the deer as trophy of my skill. 
They now repose in mine own abode.” 

Brought thee the horns in trophy of thy 
skill ? ” repeated the girl in wrathful in- 
credulity. Brought them to thee, forsooth I 
Why, minion, thou didst not kill the deer. 
I slew it myself.” 

Marry ! dost thou take thy sister’s quarrel 


104 DOUBLET AND HOSE 

upQ.n thee/’ cried the boy. ‘‘ Know then that 
I slew it, and I am ready to maintain the 
matter by force of arms.” 

“ Francis,” Greville came up opportunely 
at this moment, thou art forgetting thyself. 
Thy mother wishes thy presence. Why doth 
thou show choler toward this lad ? Why, it 
is the lad who shot the deer ! ” 

You too, Greville,” exclaimed Francis 
bitterly. “ I think the sight of Elizabeth 
hath addled thy wits. As for you, young sir, 
’tis well that my duty to my mother calls 
me hence else thou shouldst not get off so 
easily.” 

At another time then,” replied the boy, 
thou wilt find me at thy service. We can 
settle our difference then.” 

Now heaven forfend 1 ” ejaculated the 
tutor urging Francis away. This comes of 
donning male habit. I will report the matter 
to my lady, Francis. She will see to’t that 
thou dost conduct thyself in . more seemly 
manner. Twould but amuse my lord.” 

Keep a still tongue in thy head, cousin,” 
said the girl sharply. Meddle not with that 
that doth not concern thee. Goulds t thou 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 105 

not see that the fellow did but laud himself? 
The varlet dare not meet me.” 

“ Methought he spoke not without courage,” 
observed Greville. I should judge by his 
dress that his rank was equal to thine.” 

His dress, forsooth ! What doth hinder 
any hind from appearing in rich attire?” 

The law of the queen. It regulates dress 
according to rank, and works with severity 
against those who dare transgress it,” returned 
Greville. “ There stands thy lady mother. 
I entreat thee, girl, abide close by her side 
during the queen’s visit else thy sharp tongue 
may work mischief for all of us. My lady, 
here is the child.” 

Lady Stafford who stood near the queen 
and her ladies looked reproachfully at her 
daughter. 

Hast thou not changed thy garb yet, my 
child ? ” she asked. It behooves thee to do 
so at once for it savors of disrespect to the 
queen not to appear in other array.” 

Nay ; ” said Elizabeth who had overheard 
her words. “ The lad is well enough as he is. 
We warrant that he wished not to miss any of 
this pageant which hath been prepared in our 


io6 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


honor. He shall attend us in our own cham- 
ber to which we and our ladies will now re- 
tire for some privacy. Come, my boy.’’ 

Much embarrassed Lady Stafford strove to 
stammer forth the truth but the queen waved 
her hand peremptorily. 

“No more, madam. It is our wish that he 
attend us as he is. He shall don other garb 
later.” 

There was nothing left for Francis to do 
but to follow her as she retired with the ladies 
to the apartments which had been allotted to 
her use. For the first time the girl was pain- 
fully conscious of the incongruousness of her 
attire. That the queen might ask her attend- 
ance had not occurred to any of them, and 
had it done so the affair would have seemed 
easy of explanation, but it had been found 
exceedingly difficult to get a hearing. She 
resolved, however, that should occasion pre- 
sent she would tell all hoping that the queen 
would pardon the deception, if such it might 
be called. 

For some time Elizabeth conversed with 
her maids, taking no notice of Francis, but at 
length she said abruptly. 



^ HAND GRACIOUSLY 




« 





if . 




: v i> 






/ 


* 







IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 107 

Come here, my lad.” 

Francis approached diffidently, and, unused 
to the customs of the court, remained stand- 
ing. 

Kneel, boy,” whispered one of the ladies 
whom she afterward learned was the Duchess 
of Rutland. Where are thy manners? ” 
Thy pardon,” murmured Francis in con- 
sternation sinking upon one knee. “ I knew 
not. I ” 

** There ! Tis naught.” Elizabeth extended 
her hand graciously, and the girl retained 
presence of mind enough to kiss it respect- 
fully. My good Rutland, expect not court 
manners in the midst of a forest. The youth 
means well enough, I dare say, and I liked 
well his words of welcome. Tis a pretty lad ! 
His tresses match our own for brightness.” 

Francis looked up somewhat indignantly. 
Her locks were of red in truth, but they were 
glossy and lustrous becoming golden in the 
sun, while Elizabeth’s were a dull red and 
false. 

Oh, no. Your Majesty ; ” interposed one of 
the ladies. ‘‘ The lad’s hair is well enough, 
but I should as soon think of likening a weed 


io8 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


to a rose as of comparing such lack-lustre 
locks to your liege’s/’ 

“ Foolish girl ! ” chided Elizabeth though 
a smile played about her lips for this great 
queen did not object to the most fulsome flat- 
tery. To speak such words to me who am 
an old woman. Now the lad, we dare affirm, 
doth not think me so fair as his mother who 
is, in truth, a beautiful woman. Speak, boy ! ” 
She smiled at Francis as she spoke and re- 
arranged her draperies coquettishly. 

Francis’ young nature was filled with scorn 
for the vanity of the woman before her, queen 
though she was. Her mother’s face arose be- 
fore her with its delicate complexion guiltless 
of the powder and the rouge affected by the 
ladies of the court. Her tresses were streaked 
somewhat with gray, but they were still her 
own. Her eyes were as blue as periwinkles 
and full of tenderness and love. The girl’s 
eyes swept the painted face above her, and her 
heart grew hot within her breast at the queen’s 
question. Amazed at her own audacity she 
arose and said boldly : 

“ Madam, I crave pardon, but my mother 
is to me the fairest woman in the world.” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 109 

For an instant there was dead silence in the 
chamber. An expression of fury crossed the 
queen’s face. She half rose from her couch, 
and then sank back upon it. 

We were near forgetting, Sir Malapert, that 
thou hadst not had benefit of court life. 
Thy manners must be mended ere thou dost 
come into our presence again. Go ! you 
weary me. Come near me no more. And he 
is a pupil of Greville’s ! ” Francis heard her 
exclaim as she hurried away. My life, the 
boy is duller than he looks ! ” 

Full of consternation at what she had done, 
angry and resentful also, Francis sought her 
parents to relate the incident to them. 

“ Oh, child, child,” moaned the mother. 
What hast thou done ! What hast thou 
done ! ” 

My mother, was it not the truth ? Thou 
art fairer ; a thousand times fairer than she. 
She is an ugly old woman ” 

My daughter,” interrupted Lord Stafford, 
say no more. Elizabeth is the queen, and 
whatever may be her weaknesses and faults 
she is still the queen. And mark you, child ! 
though she hath many faults she hath also 


no IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


great virtues. For this reason her people 
overlook her vanity and exalt her. She is a 
queen, but she is also a woman. Thou art 
too young to understand all that that means 
yet. Now, let me think how to make 
amends.” 

“ She said that I was to come near her no 
more while she remained. I am sorry if I 
did wrong in speaking so, but still it is the 
truth. My mother is the fairer.” 

“ Hush, hush,” whispered the lady drawing 
her close. ’Tis treason, child. What doth 
it matter to us whether or no I am the fairer. 
It bodes us ill to say so. Oh, child, I am 
afeared.” 

Let us ask Greville to aid us,” said Lord 
Stafford. Mayhap he can suggest a remedy, 
for well doth he ken Elizabeth's humors.” 


CHAPTER XI 


AT THE queen's COMMAND 

But neither Greville’s obsequious homage, 
nor Lord and Lady Stafford's apologies could 
regain the goodwill of the queen. Seeing her 
state of mind Lord Stafford advised that 
Francis should retain her chamber during the 
rest of Elizabeth's visit. 

For the three days that the queen remained 
at the Hall her demeanor was such as to fill 
its master with a vague uneasiness. Lady 
Stafford she hardly tolerated, and though 
Lord Stafford lavished gifts upon her, yet she 
refused to be propitiated. 

Surely," Francis heard her father say to 
her mother, the remark of a child would 
not suffice for such behavior? Elizabeth is 
vain beyond most women, yet 'twere doing 
her an injustice to deem her capable of resent- 
ment for so slight a thing. Can she have 
learned of Ballard's presence in England? 
Of our visit to Chartley ? And yet none save 

III 


1 12 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


we three knew whither we went. And you 
would be discreet, I trow. Francis, young as 
slie is, would reveal naught that would do me 
harm. She is too straightforward, too truth- 
ful,” — he stopped with a light laugh and 
kissed his wife. “ What spirit the girl had to 
tell the queen that thou wert fairer,” he said. 
“ Thou art so in truth, Penelope, yet for my 
life I durst not tell it to Elizabeth.” 

Nay ; I would not have thee to, my lord. 
Say that Elizabeth is the loveliest, the fairest 
of womankind, I care not so that I may keep 
thee with me. But our child, my lord I I 
fear for that very directness which thou dost 
commend. A weaker spirit would be more 
politic. I would not that she be less truthful, 
but I wish, I wish ” 

“Nay, sweetheart, wish not that she be 
other than she is. I would not have her 
fawning upon the queen as do the maids of 
the court. Dost mark what words of flattery 
they utter and yet with what ridicule they 
speak of her to each other when they think 
that there is none to hear ? I would not that 
Francis should be as they are.” 

“Nor I,” acquiesced the mother. “Yet 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 113 

sometimes truth doth not meet with the merit 
it deserves/^ 

True ; but let us think not on that, but be 
grateful that our child is as she is/^ 

Francis^ heart glowed with love and tender- 
ness toward her parents, and she was grieved 
that words of hers had brought such disquiet 
upon them. 

I must try,^^ she mused, to retain my 
truth and yet not offend by it. But how 
could I have said other than I did? My 
mother is fairer to me. There was but the 
one answer to be given to such a question. 

Over and over she turned the matter in her 
mind striving to reconcile policy with truth- 
fulness. A problem which has vexed the 
souls of men since the beginning of time. 

At last the queen took her departure. As 
she bade her host and hostess farewell, she 
said : 

Madam, I thank you for your entertain- 
ment. My lord, though thou bearest me no 
good will, yet shalt thou find that Elizabeth 
doth not forget that thy father was the friend 
of her father. ’Tis pity that more attention 
hath not been given to thy son's manners, but 


1 14 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

the fault shall be amended, I promise you. 
England surely hath schools for its youth that 
are equal to those of thy faith abroad.’’ 

“Madam, what mean you?” asked the 
nobleman detecting the menace in her words. 

“We shall see what we shall see,” was the 
queen’s enigmatical rejoinder. She swept to 
her chariot, and with her brilliant train, soon 
left Stafford Hall behind. 

As the days glided by, and no sign or mes- 
sage came from her, the anxiety engendered 
by her last words faded away, and once more 
a feeling of security crept into their hearts. 
This false confidence was dispelled however 
one warm day in July when a messenger from 
the queen rode into the courtyard, and de- 
manded an audience with the master of the 
Hall. The guest had been but a short time in 
the presence chamber when Lord Stafford 
emerged from the apartment with pale face. 

“ Bid my lady and my daughter repair 
hither without delay,” he cried hailing a 
servitor. 

“ But, my lord,” Francis heard him say as 
they hastened to the room in answer to the 
summons, “ I do but speak the truth when I 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 115 

declare that, as I live by bread, I have no 
son. I have but one child, and that a daugh- 
ter. She is here to speak for herself.” 

“ What is it, father ? ” asked Francis going 
to him, while Lord Shrope, the queen^s mes- 
senger, looked his bewilderment. 

The queen hath commanded that my son, 
Francis Stafford, shall accompany my Lord 
Shrope to the court to become one of her pen- 
sioners. He doubts my word when I say that 
I have no son.” 

Nay, my lord ; I must believe you if you 
say that you have none,” said the nobleman 
courteously. “ But there is misapprehension 
somewhere. If I do not misreckon foully the 
queen spoke of both seeing and speaking with 
him during her progress hither. There is 
grave misunderstanding, I fear.” 

“ Alas ! my lord, this comes of deception,” 
Lord Stafford despairing cried. “ Let me un- 
fold. to thee all that chanced during Her 
Majesty’s stay, and do you advise me what 
course to pursue for I am nigh bereft of wit.” 

“ Let me hear all, Stafford,” returned the 
other. Thou knowest that I bear a heart 
well disposed toward thee, and will gladly do 


ii6 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


aught that will aid thee. Full well do I re- 
member how thou and I did consort together 
at the court, and there hath been none to take 
thy place since thou didst go into retirement 
upon thy marriage. Therefore, say on.^^ 

I thank thee that thou hast spoken so fa- 
vorably and kindly of the friendship that once 
held between us,^^ replied Lord Stafford. Al- 
beit, I would not curry favor with thee 
because of it. But to the matter in hand. 
Know then that when the Queen’s Majesty 
was about to come hither, and we were pre- 
paring for her reception, Hugh Greville, my 
daughter’s tutor and my kinsman, did lament 
that I had no son to speak the welcome to 
Elizabeth. In an idle moment, I unwittingly 
consented that Francis should don the habit 
of a page and deliver the speech not thinking 
that the queen would do more than to listen 
to it. But she was drawn to the girl and 
spoke words of approbation to her, enquiring 
her name. ^ Francis,’ she observed as the 
child gave it her, ^ ah ! well do I ken, my 
lord, that that was your father’s name.’ Then 
as she moved on she asked if I had other 
children. To which I answ^red^ ^ No,’ Me- 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 117 

thought that that would end the matter, but 
mark you I She bade my supposed son to at- 
tend her in her chamber ; and then, thou 
knowest the tenor of the court talk, she asked 
if she did not deem her mother fairer than 
she, the queen, was. My daughter, Shrope, 
knows naught but to speak the truth. She is 
a maiden of tender years, simply brought up, 
and as wild and free as the linnet that sings 
upon yon bough. She spoke the truth when 
she answered that to her, her mother was the 
fairest woman that lived. Elizabeth spurned 
her from her presence, and conveyed threat as 
to the manners of my son when she left the 
hall. ’Ods life, my lord ! to what pass hath 
England come when children must be taught 
to dissemble and fawn else they be subjected 
to discipline by the queen ? Had she not 
enough courtiers to hail her as ^ Diana, ^ and 
‘ The Miracle of Time,’ and other things of 
like ilk that she must needs try to subvert my 
child from truth ? Gramercy ! I am ready at 
this moment to enter the tilt-yard to defend 
the girl’s saying against all comers. Her 
mother is the fairest lady that ere the sun 
shone on. I ” 


ii8 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


“ Hold, Stafford, thou ravest I Be not so 
heated in thy words. Give pause while I 
think on what thou hast told me.” 

Lord Stafford tried to subdue his feelings 
while the other sat in thought. Presently 
Lord Shrope looked up. 

‘‘ Stafford, for the sake of that old friend- 
ship to which I have before referred, bear 
with me for what I am about to say. Rumor 
hath whispered that thou hast given enter- 
tainment to Jesuits which, as thou knowest, is 
felony. Nay ; ” as Lord Stafford was about 
to speak, I would not ask thee if it be true 
or no. But for that cause do I say, let the 
girl assume once more her male attire and go 
with me to the court. Elizabeth likes not 
to be made the victim of a hoax, but there 
are times when none enjoys a jest more than 
she. When the time is propitious, I and 
other of thy friends, will disclose the matter 
to the queen. Believe me when I say that it 
will be best so.” 

“Let Francis go from me to that court?” 
cried the father in agonized tones. “ I can- 
not ! I will not ! She shall not stir from 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 119 

here ! I will go to the queen and lay the 
whole affair before her/^ 

Do not so, my lord. There are those who 
have the queen's ear who have whispered 
against thee. Stafford Hall hath broad lands 
in its demesne, and covetous eyes have been 
cast upon it. 'Twould be a choice morsel for 
some favorite. 'Twould not be wise for thee 
to appear at court just now." 

Father," said Francis, “ why should I 
not do as thy friend advises? I would not 
that aught of harm should come to thee, 
and surely none can come to me ? Let me 
go. It will be but a short time until my re- 
turn, because I feel certain that when the 
queen learns that there was naught of intent 
to deceive she will pardon all. Once, my fa- 
ther, thou didst say that she was a queen but 
still a woman. A woman, my father, with a 
woman's heart and a woman's compassion." 

A woman, yes ; with a woman's vanity, 
and a woman's spite," broke from Lord Staf- 
ford. 

Stafford, Stafford, it is well for thee that 
none other hears thee. Thy daughter hath 
well said that Elizabeth is a woman. Lion- 


120 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


hearted as well becomes a Tudor, but properly 
appealed to, sympathetic and generous. Be 
guided in this by me, my lord, and let her go.” 

“Yes, my father,” pleaded Francis. 

“ It shall be as her mother says,” said Lord 
Stafford turning to his wife who had stood as 
if stricken since hearing the advice of Lord 
Shrope. “ Speak, my wife. Shall we keep 
our daughter, and defy Elizabeth ” 

“ Oh, no, no ! ” sobbed Lady Stafford. “ I 
am loath to let her go, and yet I would not 
have her stay if by so doing we shall seem to 
defy the queen. My lord, surely harm could 
not come to the child, while for thee, I fear, 
I fear.” 

“ Then I may go.” Francis sprang to her 
mother and embraced her. “ Oh, Tis only for 
my father that we need to fear. Naught of 
harm will I come to.” 

“Upon mine honor, Stafford,” said Lord 
Shrope going to Lord Stafford who had bowed 
his head upon his hands, “ even as I have 
two lady birds of daughters of mine own, so 
will I look after thine. Take heart, old 
friend. I believe that all will be well else I 
would not advise this step. Courage ! ” 


CHAPTER XII 


THE FAVOR OF PRINCES 

The Bow bells were ringing as Francis and 
her escort, Lord Shrope, drew near the city 
of London three days later. It was sunset 
and the silvery peal of the bells was clearly 
borne to them upon the evening breeze. 
Merrily they rang. Now wild and free ; now 
loud and deep ; now slower and more slow 
until they seemed to knell the requiem of the 
day. 

How beautiful ! exclaimed Francis invol- 
untarily drawing rein. “ Pause, I pray you, 
my lord. Do they always ring so ? ” 

Ay, child. Ever since and long before 
they sounded so musically in Dick Whitting- 
ton^s ears : ^ Turn again, turn again, thrice 
lord mayor of London ^ I What think you 
they say ? Do they bear a message to your 
ears ? 

The girl listened intently. 

“ Methinks they say, ' Come not to London, 

I2I 


122 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


Francis 1 Come not to London town ! ' But 
is there not in truth amidst all their toning 
some melody or chant ? ” 

There is, child, but not as thou hast so 
fancifully thought a warning to thee. How 
melodious is their chime ! Think the rather 
on that than on aught else.” 

“Yes, my lord ; and how wonderful is the 
city ! Marry ! whatever betides I shall have 
seen London ! ” 

She sat erect as she spoke, and drank in 
the scene with appreciative eyes. Lord 
Shrope looked at Britain’s metropolis with 
pride. 

The last rays of the setting sun fell linger- 
ingly upon the great city. For great it was 
though it numbered but one and thirty thou- 
sand inhabitants at this time. Paris alone 
excelled it in numbers. London, as the 
representative of England in her supremacy 
of the seas, her intellectual grandeur, and 
above all as the friend of those who dared 
to oppose the power of Rome, London stood 
in the eyes of all men as the greatest city of 
the world. 

The towers and turrets that gleamed above 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 123 

the strong walls that encircled the city ; the 
sure gates that gave entrance thereto ; the 
princely palaces with their large gardens, rich 
porches and stately galleries ; the open fields 
that came up close to the walls ; the distant 
hills of Essex, Middlesex, Surrey and Kent 
covered thickly with woods ; the silvery 
Thames, the silent highway of the Londoners, 
its bosom covered by a forest of masts and 
spanned by the great bridge, — even then old, 
— with its gateways, towers, drawbridges, 
houses, mills, chapel and wharfs ; all these 
went to make a picture that thrilled every 
English heart. 

The girl looked first this way and then 
that as though she could never drink her 
fill. 

My lord,^^ she cried, prithee tell me 
which of all those turrets is the Tower? 

To the east, child. The white tower that 
rises so majestically from the surrounding 
turrets. Therein is written the whole history 
of England. That is the lofty citadel which 
it is said the great Julius himself raised. 
And yonder lies Saint Paul’s. That sombre 
and dungeon like stronghold is Baynard’s 


124 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

castle. To our left is Westminster, and yon 
beautiful palace is Whitehall. It is known 
of all men how it reverted to the crown at 
the fall of Wolsey. The queen's father 
adorned it in its present manner. There 
stands Somerset house, and yonder is Crosby. 
On the bankside in Southwark are the 
theatres and Paris gardens where are the 
bear pits. Look about thee, Francis. On 
every building, almost on every stone is 
writ the history of our forbears. On all 
those walls are traces of Roman, Briton, 
Anglo-Saxon and Norman. History in stone. 
What sermons they might preach to us had 
they but tongues ! " 

It is beautiful ! " said Francis again. 

“ The bells have ceased their chiming," said 
Lord Shrope. I would not break into thy 
enjoyment, child, but we must hasten. Be- 
fore the darkness falls we must enter Green- 
wich where Elizabeth is." 

With a deep drawn sigh, Francis gave one 
more look about her and then they passed 
into the city. 

Within the immediate vicinity of the 
walls there were many gardens and open 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 125 

spaces. The houses with their fanciful gables 
and vanes, and tall twisted chimneys invited 
and enchained the eye. The streets were 
narrow, and alleys, courts and by-paths 
abounded in every direction. While they 
were at a distance they had heard only the 
subdued noises of the city, above which the 
bells sounded clearly. But now as they passed 
through the streets their ears were assailed by 
the cries of the pent-house keepers, or the 
noises of the apprentices as they set upon 
some offending pedestrian. The din was 
almost indescribable. And yet in the midst 
of the confusion there was music. From 
every barber shop came the twang of cittern 
or guitar, while song burst from the lips of 
every tankard bearer. 

All these, with other wonders, Francis en- 
countered as they wended their way through 
alleys and byways until presently they came 
to London Stone. 

Now here will I dismount,^^ cried Francis 
pleased and excited by all that she had seen 
and heard. 

''But why, child? We have not yet 
reached the wharf where we take the wherry 


126 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


for Greenwich. Why should you pause 
here ? 

“ Because/^ cried the girl with a laugh, if 
I cannot take possession of the city, I can at 
least emulate that arch traitor. Jack Cade, and 
strike my staff upon this stone.” So saying 
she struck the ancient stone a sharp blow with 
her whip. 

Beshrew me, girl ! ” cried the nobleman 
laughing, “ thou shouldst in very truth have 
been a boy ! Marry ! who but a lad would 
have thought on such a thing ! But hasten I 
The last rays of yon setting sun must see us 
at the palace.” 

Francis remounted her palfrey, and without 
further incident they came to the wharf. 
Leaving their horses in the charge of some 
of the servitors of Lord Shrope they descended 
the stairs that led through one of the numer- 
ous water gates to the river, and entered one 
of the wherries that lay clustered about wait- 
ing for fares. 

See the barges,” cried the girl as they shot 
London Bridge and passed down the river. 

How many there are ! ” 

The bosom of the river was covered over 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 127 

with barges, wherries and vessels of every de- 
scription. Busy as it was fleets of swans were 
sailing upon its smooth surface, the noise of 
their gabble mingling agreeably with the song 
of the watermen. 

“Yes, many ; ’’ assented Lord Shrope in 
answer to the girl’s remark, as retinues of 
barges passed them, fllled with many a freight 
of brave men and beautiful women. 
“ Hearken, how the oarsmen keep time to 
their oars.” 

Francis listened with delight as the song 
of the wherrymen swelled in a mighty 
chorus, for every boatman sang the same 
thing : 

“ Heave ho ! rumbelow ! ” 

“ And the swans,” she cried excitedly. 

“ Yes ; ’tis a pleasant sight, and many have 
wondered that they should stay upon the 
river when it is so busy, but they are kindly 
treated and no harm suffered to come to them. 
Behold the dwellings of the nobles.” 

Nothing could have been more picturesque 
at this time than the north bank of the 
Thames with its broad gardens, lofty trees and 
embattled turrets and pinnacles of the palaces. 


128 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


each of which had its landing-place and 
private retinue of barges and wherries. 

This is the Tower/^ said the nobleman as 
they drew near that grim fortress. A low 
browed projecting arch, above which was a 
tower forming a striking part of the strong- 
hold, attracted the girl’s attention. Steps led 
up from the river to a small ricket in the arch 
which gave entrance into the Tower. 

“That is the Traitors’ Gate,” said Lord 
Shrope. “ Through that wicket pass all those 
guilty of treason.” 

A shudder passed over Francis as she gazed 
at the forbidding portals. 

“Why dost thou shiver?” asked Lord 
Shrope kindly, as he noticed her involuntary 
tremor. 

“ Sir,” answered Francis, in mournful tones, 
“ I fear that Tower. Something seems to 
whisper me that yon grim walls and I will 
become better acquainted.” 

“Now Heaven forfend ! ” ejaculated Lord 
Shrope. “ Thy doubts of thy reception at the 
queen’s hands render thee fearful. Take 
courage, child. All will yet be well. ’Tis 
not amiss that thou shouldst be doubtful, as 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 129 

the issue is uncertain. Were you but as the 
queen thinks, and not in masquerade, you 
would fare well at court. For ^tis worthy the 
ambition of any young man, be his rank of 
the highest, or his prospects the most brilliant, 
to become one of the queen's pensioners. For 
thus doth Her Majesty accomplish divers 
things : she honoreth those who are such ; 
obligeth their kindred and alliance, and forti- 
fieth herself; for none can be brought near 
her person without becoming willing to lay 
down life itself in her behalf." 

I should not be, were I in truth the boy 
she thinks me," declared Francis. 

Subdue such spirit, girl," rebuked he. 
“ The queen is graciousness itself to those 
whom she favors, but frowardness and pert- 
ness are not to her liking. In sooth, she tol- 
erates them not in those near her. For thy 
father's sake, have a care to thy words. The 
slight disfavor under which thou dost labor 
will soon be overcome, I doubt not, if thou 
wilt show thyself submissive to her will. But 
I mean not to chide thee, child, for I know 
that thy maiden heart cannot but fail thee in 
this hour. I would, an I could, turn thy 


130 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

mind to more of liking toward the queen else 
will it be hard for thee to sue to her. Eliza- 
beth is a great ruler. The land hath never 
before enjoyed so much of peace and prosper- 
ity. Even her enemies cannot gainsay this 
fact. But I fear that I weary thee, and thou 
art troubled enough.” 

“ Nay, my lord ; I know that thou dost 
speak from the fulness of experience, and 
therefore do thy words carry weight. I am 
not weary but my heart doth fail me when I 
think of the queen and the court. I am but 
a maiden, my lord, unlearned in the ways 
of courtiers, and should I fail to find favor 
with the queen, who shall stand between me 
and her will ? Who is there who would brave 
her displeasure to speak one word for me? 
Marry ! not one ! ” 

‘‘ Think not on that aspect, girl, an thou 
wouldst maintain thy spirit. He who would 
achieve his end dwells not on failure. Think 
on thy father. For his sake thou must get 
the favor of the queen. For his sake so de- 
mean thyself that all that he hath done will 
be condoned. Mark thee, Francis ! There 
are those who whisper that he is the more in- 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 131 

dined to Mary of Scotland than to Elizabeth 
of England. There lies his danger.’^ 

I thank you, my lord, for your words,^^ 
said Francis. Well will I heed them. Thou 
hast been to me as a father in the discharge 
of thy duty, though it must be irksome to 
thee to be burdened with so troublesome a 
charge. Nathless, I thank thee for thy words 
and for thy care.^^ 

Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke and 
she turned her head quickly that he might 
not see them. 

Thou art welcome to all that I have done,^^ 
said Lord Shrope brusquely to hide his feel- 
ings for he was filled with pity for the forlorn 
state of the girl. Troublesome thou hast 
not been, but full of courage until now. How 
now? Wilt thou play the girl when thou 
dost wear that garb? Command thyself, I 
pray, for we draw near the palace.’’ 

’Tis true I wear this garb,” sobbed Fran- 
cis, but yet I am a maiden, with a maiden’s 
fears and a maiden’s weakness. Prithee bear 
with me for a moment until I am myself 
again.” 

She gave way to the emotion that over- 


132 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

whelmed her, for she was wearied by the 
journey, excited over the new and strange 
scenes of the past few days, and overwrought 
with her fears. Lord Shrope bent a look of 
compassion upon her, but uttered no word. 

The song of the boatmen ceased as they 
drew near the landing stairs of the palace. 
There were numerous wherries waiting to un- 
load their human freight, and this gave Fran- 
cis time to recover her composure. So soon 
as she was calm Lord Shrope motioned to the 
watermen and they drew up at the stairs 
which led to the great gate of the palace. 
Courtyard and terrace were filled with gaily- 
dressed ladies and nobles. Here a lady at- 
tended by her gentlewomen traced her way 
delicately, a gentleman-usher making way for 
her, her train upheld by a page. Then gal- 
lants ruffled along, their attire vying with 
that of the ladies for brilliancy and richness. 
Each courtier wore a rose behind his ear, and 
upon his shoes were roses also to hide the 
strings. Each bore a long sword upon one 
side and a poniard on the other, and behind 
him a body of serving men, proportioned to 
his estate and quality, all of whom walked 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 133 

with the air of military retainers and were 
armed with swords and bucklers. Laughing, 
jesting and making merry, they seemed not to 
have a care, though many a satin doublet and 
silken vest concealed a heart as full of anx- 
iety as that of the girl who had just come 
among them. 

Beshrew me, my lord,^’ exclaimed a noble 
in brave attire as Lord Shrope entered the 
palace yard with his charge. Art thou 
come again? Methought I heard that wast 
sent to France. 

And France is (Francis) here,’^ retorted 
his lordship, indicating his companion. 

Good ! I' faith, very good, if Francis be 
his name,” laughed the other. “ A proper 
lad, I trow. The queen hath ever an eye for 
beauty.” 

Where is Her Grace?” questioned Lord 
Shrope. 

In the presence chamber,” was the reply. 

Then let us hie thither,” spoke my lord, 
and Francis hurried after him, confused and 
embarrassed, as she encountered the curious 
gaze of the courtiers and ladies. They passed 
through the lofty halls and ante-chambers of 


134 DOUBLET AND HOSE 

the palace until at length they stood in the 
long gallery at the upper end of which were 
the folding doors that gave entrance to the 
presence chamber. 

“ Go not in, my lord,'' pleaded the usher of 
the black rod in charge of the door. Some- 
thing hath gone amiss with Her Highness, 
and the moment is not favorable." 

“ I thank you. Master Usher, but the queen 
bade me seek her instantly upon my return," 
said Lord Shrope. “ I needs must go to her 
now. Come, Francis." 

So saying he boldly entered the chamber. 
It was hung with magnificent tapestries to- 
ward which Francis cast not so much as a 
single glance, so intent was she upon the form 
which seemed to dominate the room. At one 
end of the apartment was a dais upon which 
the queen sat under a royal canopy, sur- 
rounded by her ministers and some courtiers. 
They stood about with dismayed countenances 
for the queen was in a rage. She looked up 
as the two entered, and stared for a moment 
as if seeking to know the meaning of their 
entrance. 

My liege sovereign," cried Lord Shrope 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 135 

without waiting for the Lord Chamberlain to 
announce him, “ I have come. Behold here 
is the lad for whom you sent me.” 

“ Out of my sight,” cried the queen angrily. 
’Ods death ! is there none to keep the door 
that every minion that lists may enter ? Out 
of my sight, and plague me not with a sight 
of that boy. Away, varlet I ” 

With crestfallen visage Lord Shrope arose, 
bowed profoundly and hurried Francis out of 
the chamber. 

I should have heeded thy warning, sir,” 
he said to the usher. Now I cannot seek 
the queen until she bids me to her.” 

What shall I do ? ” asked the girl almost 
in tears. “ Whither shall I go ? ” 

“ Thou shalt come with me, my child. My 
lady wife will look to thy comfort. There 
shalt thou abide until it shall be safe to ap- 
proach Elizabeth. Thy star is not in the 
ascendant.” 

“ And I have involved thee too in Her 
Grace^s displeasure,” said Francis with con- 
trition. 

Nay ; Elizabeth is too just to harbor ill 
toward me who hath but wrought her 


136 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

pleasure. Though verily the humors of 
princes like their favors are uncertain. But 
come 1 ’’ 


CHAPTER XIII 


A FAMILIAR FACE AND A CHALLENGE 

Lady Shrope received the girl with kind- 
ness but her anxiety, when her husband re- 
counted the manner of his reception by the 
queen, was great. 

Thou hast no cause for fear,” remarked 
Lord Shrope. Elizabeth is the very muster 
of justice and honor. When she hath suf- 
fered a few hours to pass she will repent her 
of her injustice.” 

The nobleman was right. At an early hour 
the next day he was summoned to the pres- 
ence of the queen, and bade to bring his 
charge with him. 

I cry your pardon, my lord,” said Eliza- 
beth extending her hand to him graciously. 

Thine entrance yester e’en was ill-timed. 
We had received tidings that ruffled our royal 
dignity and permitted us to treat thee with 
undue rigor. Dost forgive thy queen, my 
lord?” 

*37 


138 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

“ There is naught I would not forgive 
Elizabeth/^ returned he with earnestness. 

Had I known I would have delayed seeking 
an audience but methought it was your wish 
that I should come to you upon my first ar- 
rival. Forgive me that I did misinterpret 
your desire.'^ 

“ If thou hast forgiven me then do I for- 
give thee/^ said the queen. Rise, my lord, 
and I will speak of this boy, and then to 
other matters. Business of state awaits the 
morning hours. 

He is here, my liege, to speak for him- 
self,’^ answered he, and beckoned Francis to 
come forward. 

She did so diffidently and kneeled before 
the queen. 

Nay ; I wish not to speak with him, my 
lord,’^ and Frances noted with dismay that 
she did not extend her hand to her. Let 
him take his place with the pages. They will 
soon let him into the manners of the court, I 
trow. When he shall have rubbed off some 
of the rustic mayhap I will have something 
to say to him.” 

My liege,” ventured the nobleman, will 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 139 

you listen to something concerning the lad 
which ’tis best that you should know ? ’’ 

“ Now, by my faith, my lord ! thou dost 
try our patience,’^ said Elizabeth sharply. 
“ Said we not that affairs of state awaited us. 
We go at once to the council chamber. My 
lord chamberlain,” turning to that official 
whose white staff indicated his office, place 
this lad where his manners will meet with 
the most improvement.” 

She swept out of the room followed by her 
ministers, while the courtiers and ladies dis- 
persed according to their fancy. 

Francis had remained in a kneeling posture 
all this time scarcely able to control her tears. 
A tap on the shoulder aroused her, and look- 
ing up she saw the kindly face of Lord 
Hunsdon, the lord chamberlain, bending 
over her. 

Be not disheartened, boy,” he said com- 
passionately. The tide will turn, and thou 
wilt soon be swept upon the flood into the 
sunshine of Her Majesty’s regard. Come, and 
I will show thee those who are to be thy fel- 
low companions.” 

“ My lord chamberlain,” said Lord Shrope 


140 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

hurriedly, “ out of the goodness of your 
heart, permit me one word. The lad is un- 
acquainted with the court, and unused to the 
society of pages whom as thou knowest, al- 
beit their outward ’havior conforms to 
custom, yet still are ofttimes unmannerly in 
their demeanor to each other. For that rea- 
son, and for the love which once I did bear 
his father, I entreat you, let the lad remain 
with me. I will see to’t that his deportment 
is all that could be asked. 

“ My lord, I dare not,’^ was the chamberlain’s 
reply. “ Thou knowest that where the queen 
commands she exacts obedience to her behests. 
He must go with the pages.” 

‘‘ My lord, a word in your ear. The lad is 
not as he seems.” And Lord Shrope rapidly 
explained the matter. 

‘‘Ha! sayst thou so?” explained Lord 
Hunsdon regarding Francis earnestly. “ By 
my halidom, my lord, there is none who 
would take her to be other than she appears. 
Somewhat delicate looking, forsooth, but 
there are many lads as maiden-like. If the 
matter be given to the queen in proper man- 
ner she will regard it with lenient eyes, but if 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 141 

not, she may treat it as deceit practised upon 
herself. That she would not forgive.^* 

“ True ; ” assented Lord Shrope. “ Tis 
that aspect of the affair that troubles me. 
Thou seest that for this cause I would that 
the girl might remain with my lady wife.” 

It may not be,” said the chamberlain. 
Let the girl be in attendance with the pages 
in accordance with the queen^s command 
until she learns of the child’s sex, which, for 
the damsel’s sake, I would discover soon.” 

I thank you, my lord, for your kindness,” 
returned Lord Shrope. “ It is my desire also 
that the queen should learn of the affair at 
an early season. But the time must be 
propitious.” 

Yes ; the time must be propitious.” The 
lord chamberlain turned to Frances who had 
listened to the above conversation with blush- 
ing cheeks. It seems best, my child, to 
carry out the queen’s command at least in 
part. Canst thou so bear thyself that none 
will be the wiser of thy sex ? The discipline 
of the palace is strict and the pages observe 
punctiliously the outward forms of respect. 
Still the minions do ofttimes o’erstep the 


142 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

bounds and indulge in rare pranks. Methinks 
’twould be wise for them to know naught of 
thy disguise. The knaves are as full of mis- 
chief as sprites. 

I fear them not,” said Francis spiritedly. 

I fear naught but the queen’s displeasure. 
For any other, I care not who he be, woe to 
him who dares touch Francis Stafford.” She 
touched the poniard that dangled from her 
belt significantly as she spoke. 

Child,” cried the old lord in delight, 
“ thou wearest the proper garb. Thou wast 
never meant for a girl. Zounds ! what spirit I 
And so thou fearest naught in all England 
but the displeasure of the queen. Gramercy ! 
the air of the court is beginning to tell upon 
thee for those are the words of a courtier. 
Come ! I no longer fear for thee so long as 
thou dost continue to bear thyself in so fear- 
less a manner.” 

I bid you farewell, my lord,” said Francis 
to Lord Shrope. 

“ Farewell for a season, my child. Return 
to my lady when thy duties are ended,” said 
her friend. “ Lighter will my heart be when 
thou art once more in thy father’s house. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 143 

Marry I I would that I had not advised bring- 
ing thee thither. Now I know not what may 
befall.^^ 

Chide not thyself, my lord,^^ returned 
Francis who had recovered her natural cour- 
age now that the interview with the 
queen was over. All will be well in a few 
days, I doubt not. Meantime, it suits me 
well that I am to see somewhat of the 
court. 

Marry ! it suits not me,^^ returned his 
lordship bluntly. “ I like not to see a wild 
bird caged. The linnet is never so sweet as 
in its own woodland.^’ 

But the hawk flies as high for its keeper 
as when seeking its own quarry,^^ said Francis 
as she moved away. Again, my lord, fare- 
well until the eventide. 

“ Farewell. Be discreet, child.^^ 

Francis followed Lord Hunsdon through 
several lofty halls and chambers. Finally 
the official caught sight of a youth who stood 
idly by a pillar. 

** Devereaux,” he called. I would speak 
with thee.'^ 

I am here, my lord.^^ The boy was at his 


144 DOUBLET AND HOSE 

side instantly. Command me, I pray you. 
How can I serve you ? 

“ Take this lad, and make him thy pupil, 
Edward. He hath been sent here to be 
taught manners. There be none so well 
versed in such things as thou art. Therefore 
do I give him into thy charge.” 

The youth raised his head and gave a keen 
searching glance at Francis. The recogni- 
tion was instantaneous. Francis gave a slight 
exclamation for the boy was he with whom 
she had contested the slaying of the deer. 
Beyond a slight sparkle of his eye the lad 
betrayed no sign of ever having seen her 
before. 

And, Edward, I know the custom that 
prevails amongst the pages of treating with 
undue harshness such as come among ye for 
the first time. I charge you, as you wish to 
curry favor with me, that this lad shall meet 
with naught but gentleness. Dost hear, 
Edward ? ” 

Ay, my lord. It shall be as thou sayst. 
He shall be treated with gentleness. With 
exceeding great gentleness, I promise you.” 

The boy’s manner was very deferential, but 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 145 

the ears of Francis caught the sinister mean- 
ing that lurked beneath his words. 

My lord,” she said boldly, “ is there none 
other to whom I may be consigned except 
this youth? I like not his appearance.” 

“ Like not Edward ? ” exclaimed Lord 
Hunsdon in surprise. “ Why, what caprice is 
this? He is a proper lad, and there is no 
other of the pages so trustworthy. Thou 
shouldst deem thyself fortunate to be put 
into his hands.” 

Marry, sir,” remarked Edward Devereaux 
with a sorrowful air, Tis pity that my visage 
is so unattractive. If the boy is afeared,” 
with a slight emphasis on the word, you 
would best place him with another. Fear 
makes cowards of us all, and breeds distrust 
of the most worthy.” 

Gramercy,” cried the girl hotly, dost 
thou think that I fear thee, sirrah ? Nay ; 
my lord, I will take none other for my 
mentor than he. Mayhap while he imparts 
to me the nice customs of the court, he will 
in turn learn of me something he wots not 
of. Marry I we each have much to learn.” 

Tut I is this the way to begin ? ” said his 


146 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

lordship impatiently. “ Edward, I shall look 
to thee for a good report of thy charge.’’ 

“ It shall be well, sir,” returned Edward 
Devereaux bowing profoundly. The cham- 
berlain left the two, and the boy faced the 
girl. “ So,” he said, “ we are come to learn 
manners, are we? By my faith, ’tis time. 
Thou dost discover too much heat. Master 
Stafford, and that, thou shouldst know, is not 
permitted at court. Take that for thy first 
lesson.” 

“ I will take naught for my lesson from 
thee,” said Francis quickly. Who art thou 
to teach manners to me ? ” 

Hast never heard of Edward Devereaux ? ” 
queried the lad. Much hast thou missed 
for he is before you,” and he bowed mockingly. 

Know, Francis Stafford, that thou and I 
have a feud of long standing. Hast heard 
thy father speak of Sir Thomas Devereaux of 
Kent? I am his son, cousin german to 
Robert Devereaux, Earl of Essex. Surely, 
even if thou dost reside far from the court, 
thou dost know that there hath always been 
enmity between the Devereaux and the 
Staffords ? ” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 147 

Ay I I know of it,” assented Francis. 
“ And that is why thou didst claim the deer 
which was slain by my hand in the park ? ” 

“ So thou dost still claim the deer ? Mark 
you, Francis Stafford ! We of the court 
think it not honorable to claim that which 
doth not belong to us. Thou hadst no 
shadow of hand in the deed. It lies be- 
tween thy sister and me. Yet still thou 
sayst, — ‘ I slew it.’ Hark ye ! if ye so choose 
we can settle the matter in the great park 
some eventide. But for the sake of truth 
say no more that you slew it. It is between 
thy sister and myself.” 

My sister,” murmured Francis, and then 
remembering herself : My sister be it.” 

And thou and I will meet and decide the 
business once for all,” went on Devereaux. 

Come ! what say you to the third night 
from this ? There are duties that forbid the 
undertaking sooner.” 

“ But, but,” stammered Francis. I ” 

Ah ! thou dost fear.” Edward Devereaux 
looked his scorn. We will drop the matter. 
But thou must fight, or concede that I slew 
the deer.” 


148 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

“ I fear nothing/^ cried the girl. I will 
meet thee when and where thou wilt.’’ 

“ Then on the third night from this, thou 
and I will meet in the park close by the 
wicket of the western gate. I will show thee 
this day where it lieth. And now we must to 
duty.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


A STRANGE DUEL 

Now, Francis Stafford knew but little of the 
noble art of fencing. Once or twice her 
father had given her the foils and shown her 
some of the attitudes and thrusts, but beyond 
that her knowledge did not extend. It was 
with considerable trepidation, therefore, that 
she thought of the approaching combat. 

Marry ! ” she mused. Were it not that 
Master Devereaux would impute it to fear I 
would not engage in such contest. It is not 
befitting my maiden dignity, and I know my 
mother would not approve. Yet there have 
been maiden warriors, why should there not 
be maiden duelists. I doubt not, were the 
truth known, that there have been many. 
But howsoever that may be, my father, I know, 
would not like me to submit to the implica- 
tion of fear ; albeit I would not harm the lad 
even though he be the son of my father’s 
enemy.” 


149 


150 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

Through the watches of the night the ques- 
tion of swordsmanship troubled her, and when 
the morning came she had reached no solu- 
tion of the difficulty. 

I dare not appeal to any who know my 
sex,” she thought as she took her place among 
the pages that swarmed one of the ante-cham- 
bers. “I would that I knew of one that 
would teach me to thrust and to parry.” 

While she was thus musing a courtier ap- 
proached her. He was gorgeously arrayed. 
Jewels to a fabulous amount adorned his per- 
son. Even upon his pantoufles or shoes were 
large pearls instead of the roses beloved of the 
gallants. His beard was pointed, his eyes set 
close together ; his manner, when he chose, 
was irresistible, and his smile very winning. 
There was a pipe of the new found tobacco in 
his mouth, — a weed that had just been im- 
ported from the new world. 

My fair lad,” said the courtier removing 
his pipe, and speaking in the broad soft accent 
of Devonshire, I have not marked thy face 
before. Art new to the court? ” 

“ Yes, my lord,” answered Francis noting 
with delight the accent. “ I am Francis Staf- 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 15 1 

ford from Hampshire, but newly arrived at 
the court. But thou, thou art from Devon, I 
am sure. It is my mother’s native heath.” 

“ True, boy ; I am from Devon. Sayst thou 
that thy mother is from that shire? Then 
thou and I should be good friends. Be- 
think you ! Could you play Hermes for me 
to one of the maids of honor ? ” 

“ I could, my lord. But prithee tell me 
whom I serve ? ” and the girl looked eagerly 
into his face. 

“ I am Walter Raleigh,” answered he. 
“ This weed hath given me somewhat of 
fame.” 

Nay ; ” said Francis quickly. “Not the 
weed but thine own achievements.” 

“ By my faith, thou art as silvery tongued 
as Orpheus with his lute,” said Sir Walter 
with a smile. “ Mark me, boy I I would not 
that any should know of this message, least 
of all the queen. ’Tis not that there is aught 
of harm in it, lad. As thou art new to the 
court thou mayest not know that it is not per- 
mitted to any to deem any fair save the queen, 
and so we are sometimes forced to send tokens 
sub rosa.” 


152 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

“ I know, Sir Walter,’' said Francis sadly. 

Tis for that very self-same cause that I am 
here.” 

“ Then, lad, we understand each other. 
Know you Mistress Elizabeth Throckmorton, 
one of the queen’s maids ? ” 

“ Nay ; ’tis but my second day in the pal- 
ace,” replied Francis. 

Then must I show her to thee,” said Sir 
Walter. “ As Her Majesty goes to take the air 
upon the river to-day I will linger a little be- 
hind. When the maids of honor come forth, 
mark well my action. As they pass I will 
drop my glove at the feet of her who is Eliza- 
beth Throckmorton.” 

I will note thy action. Sir Walter, and 
give to the lady thy token in such manner 
that none save the fair one herself shall be the 
wiser.” 

Good, my lad ! Thou art a true Hermes. 
As gracious in thy service as was ever that 
messenger of the gods. Thou wilt make me 
thy debtor a thousandfold. What guerdon 
dost thou wish ? ” 

“ Nay, Sir Walter ; I want nothing. ’Tis 
pleasing to me to be of service to thee.” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 153 

Why, boy, ^tis the custom of the court to 
take all that one can get,^’ cried Sir Walter 
who was noted for that very thing. Hast 
thou no favor to ask ? No desire of thine in- 
most heart 

“ Oh,^’ cried the girl as a thought darted 
into her mind, looking at him timidly, if I 
might be beholden to you for one favor. If 
thou wouldst. Sir Walter she paused. 

Speak on, lad,” said Raleigh kindly. 

Thou are not the first to prefer request for 
service. In truth thou wouldst be a rara 
avis shouldst thou not demand something. 
There lives no man, nor woman, nor child at 
the court who hath not his own end to 
further. Therefore speak and say what I 
shall give thee.” 

Sir Walter,” said Francis emboldened by 
his words, “ thou art a great swordsman and 
noted for thy skill in the use of that weapon. 
Impart to me that knowledge, I beseech you.” 

Is that thy wish ? ” cried Sir Walter in 
amazement. Right willingly will I teach 
thee, for I perceive that thou art a lad of 
parts. Tis an art that is more excellent than 
any other military exercise, because there is 


154 DOUBLET AND HOSE 

very great and general use thereof. Not only 
in general wars, but also in particular com- 
bats. Seek me anon, and I will soon make 
thee a master of the sword. 

With a dazzling smile he left her. Francis 
repaired to the courtyard to await the com- 
ing of the queen and her maidens. 

The royal barge, manned by watermen at- 
tired in regal liveries, lay at the foot of the great 
stairs which ascended from the river. The 
yeomen of the guard in scarlet jerkins with 
halberds in their hands, guarded the passage 
from the palace to the waterside. Presently 
the ushers issued from the mansion, flanked 
by a band of gentlemen pensioners. After 
this, amidst a crowd of ladies and gentlemen, 
came Elizabeth herself 

Sir Walter Raleigh walked by the queen, 
but, as if pushed back from his position by 
the press of people who crowded to see her, 
he dropped slightly to the rear. As the ladies 
went gaily by, laughing and talking, he let 
fall his gauntlet just in front of a beautiful 
girl. Recovering the glove as Elizabeth 
looked about inquiringly for him he resumed 
his place by her side. He was in high favor 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 155 

at this time, and consequently obliged to be 
in constant attendance upon her. 

Francis looked attentively at the lady so 
indicated and followed the maids as unob- 
trusively as possible to the boats. The young 
ladies of honor were to be in a boat by them- 
selves with two older ladies for chaperons. 
As soon as the girl perceived this she pushed 
forward boldly, and, with true page-like 
officiousness, preferred her services to the 
beautiful Elizabeth Throckmorton. 

I have a page of mine own in attendance, 
young sir,^^ said the lady with a smile. “ Nath- 
less I thank you for your courtesy.” 

Fair lady,” said Francis in a low tone, 
hast ever heard of Hermes ? ” 

“ He was the messenger of the gods, sir,” 
returned she in surprise. Why ? ” 

Because I am he,” returned the supposed 
page with a bow. “ Albeit I come not from 
the gods. Twas Eros who sent me, therefore, 
I beseech you to permit me to hand you to 
the boat.” 

With a laugh and a deep blush Mistress 
Throckmorton extended her hand, and 
Francis led her to the barge, leaving the mis- 


156 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

sive of Sir Walter in the maiden’s soft 
palm. 

Later in the day, receiving a summons from 
Raleigh she hastened to him and reported the 
success of her mission. “ Gramercy, boy I 
thou wert most gallant in the delivery,” 
laughed Sir Walter. And now for thy first 
lesson with the sword.” And soon the two 
were deep in the mysteries of fencing. 

‘‘ Every man should be master of this 
weapon,” declared the sailor when Francis, 
exhausted by the swift play of the blades, 
sank down for a few moments’ rest. Even 
though one be small of stature and weak of 
strength, dexterity with the sword may make 
him master of a much larger adversary. I 
could tell thee tales, lad, as would make thy 
hair to rise of the way I have seen the sword 
used. Have to, boy ! I have but little more 
time to give thee. Thou art an apt scholar ! 
So ! that was a good parry. A little remov- 
ing of the foot, a sudden turr;ing of the hands, 
a slight declining of the body, and thine op- 
ponent is at thy mercy. So, lad, so ! ” 

The fencing lesson was repeated the next 
day. Francis no longer dreaded the meeting 



THE TWO WERE DEEP IN THE 
^ MYSTERIES OE FENCING 


V 



IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 157 

with Edward Devereaux, and when the night 
fell, she stole away to the dueling place con- 
fident that she would be the victor in the 
affair. 

There was no one at the wicket of the west- 
ern gate, and she sat down to await the com- 
ing of her adversary with impatience. The 
broad yellow beams of the full moon lighted 
up the open spaces of the park with a bright- 
ness as if the sun had just set while the shad- 
ows under the trees were darker and heavier 
by contrast. Numerous statues gleamed in 
the pale light like ghosts newly risen from 
their sepulchres. Fountains threw jets of 
water into the air, caught the moonbeams, 
and fell again into their basins in showers of 
molten silver. A light breeze ruffled the 
leaves and came with refreshing coolness after 
the sultriness of the day. All was still save 
for the music of the night bird of song. The 
beauty of the scene, the melody of the night- 
ingales, oppressed Francis with a sense of 
melancholy. 

Am I doing aright,'’ she said aloud. 

Surely I could do naught else unless I be- 
trayed my sex. Now the matter hath gone 


158 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

so far that I must bear myself as if I were in 
sooth a boy. But I will not kill the lad. 
Only make him acknowledge my skill with 
the deer. I would that he would come. I 
know not why, but I feel my courage depart- 
ing from me in the loneliness of the night.’' 

At this instant, as if in answer to her wish, 
there was the sound of hurried footsteps, and 
soon the form of Edward Devereaux appeared 
among the trees. 

I crave thy pardon. Master Stafford,” he 
cried, if I have kept thee waiting. Sir 
Christopher Hatton detained me, and I could 
not come sooner. Draw and defend thyself.” 

He drew his own sword as he spoke and 
threw himself on guard. Without one word 
of reply Francis placed herself on the de- 
fensive. And then began a curious scene. 
Parry, thrust and parry — the steel rattled, 
and the strange duel was on. The nightin- 
gales ceased their singing as if amazed at the 
folly of the human things. The only sound 
that fell upon the air besides the clash of the 
blades was the labored breathing of the 
contestants. Francis’ new-found knowledge 
stood her well in hand, and she pressed her 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 159 

opponent furiously. Suddenly she made a 
false step 

“ A hit ! a hit ! ” cried Edward Devereaux. 
As the rapier entered her right arm the 
weakness of her sex overcame the girl. She 
uttered a faint cry, and, for the first time in 
her life, fell in a dead faint. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE STRANGE WEAKNESS OF FRANCIS STAFFORD 

When Francis recovered consciousness she 
found Edward Devereaux bending over her 
with the utmost concern. 

“ You live/’ he cried joyfully as she opened 
her eyes. Now Heaven be praised ! Me- 
thought that I had killed thee, Master 
Stafford.” 

“ Methought that it was to be a tilt a Pou- 
trance,” said Francis trying to rise. Oh,” 
she moaned sinking back as dizziness again 
assailed her. “ I know not why but I am so 
weak. Bethink you that I am dying, Master 
Devereaux ? ” 

** I understand it not,” returned the lad 
much perturbed. The wound is naught. 
See ! I slashed the sleeve of thy doublet and 
examined it. The cut should tingle and 
smart as all such do when green, but there is 
naught in it that should cause thy death. 
Art thou still no better? ” 

i6o 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE i6i 


Nay ; said Francis feebly. I am sure 
that my time is come. Good Edward, I be- 
seech you, bring me a priest that he may 
shrive me.’^ 

There is no priest in all the castle walls, 
Francis Stafford. Know you not that priests 
and all such popery are forbid ? I will call a 
chirurgeon.^^ 

“ Nay ; do not so,^^ said the girl. “ What 
this weakness that has overtaken me may be, I 
know not, unless it be death. E’er I depart 
I would assoil my soul of all taint. There- 
fore incline thine ear, Master Devereaux, and 
receive my confession. It cuts me to the 
quick to make acknowledgment, but I have 
hated thee because thy skill with the bow was 
greater than mine.” She paused for a mo- 
ment. It was hard for Francis Stafford to 
confess fault even though she believed herself 
to be dying. Soon she continued : It was 

thine arrow, Edward Devereaux, that slew 
the deer. I knew it at the time, but I liked 
not to own thy skill. Wilt thou pardon me ? ” 

“ Gladly, gladly,” said Devereaux. “ Only 
I know not how thou couldst have seen the 
arrow. Thou wert not there.” 


i 62 in doublet and HOSE 


I was, Edward, returned Francis. I 
am in truth Francis Stafford, but I am 
the daughter instead of the son of my 
father. 

“ Thou ! — A girl ! ” The youth drew back 
in astonishment. And I struck thee with 
my sword ? O chivalry ! I am undone ! I 
am undone ! ” 

Nay ; take it not so to heart. The blame 
is not thine. How couldst thou know that I 
was other than I seemed ? ” 

“ But I struck thee ! The boy seemed al- 
most stunned. “Would Sidney have been 
guilty of such an act? Would the basest 
hind in the field have lifted a sword against 
a woman? Fair mistress,’’ he cried in dis- 
tress offering his sword to her, “ do one last 
favor for Edward Devereaux. Bury that 
sword in the breast of him who is unworthy 
to bear it.” 

“ In the name of St. George, what means 
this ? ” cried Lord Shrope as he and Lord 
Hunsdon ran out from among the trees. 

“ By my faith, my lord,” cried the cham- 
berlain bursting into a laugh. “ If there has 
not been a duel ! ” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 163 

‘^Art hurt, Francis?” and Lord Shrope 
bent over the girl with solicitude. 

“ My lord, methought just now that I was 
dying, but the weakness that overcame me 
hath departed,” and the girl staggered to her 
feet with his assistance. 

^‘But thou art wounded? Girl, girl, what 
doth it mean ? ” Lord Shrope caught hold of 
the sleeve that dangled from her bared arm. 

Edward,” said the lord chamberlain 
sternly, I am surprised at thee. Is this thy 
honor? Thou wert to treat this girl with 
gentleness. I had thy word. Thou knowest 
also that no brawling is permitted near the 
person of the queen. It shall go hard with 
thee for this. Francis Stafford might not 
know the law, albeit ignorance excuses none, 
but thou didst. Besides, in the name of 
chivalry, what cause had you to draw your 
sword against a maiden ? ” 

My lord,” said Devereaux who had re- 
ceived the rebuke with bowed head, deal 
with me as you list. There is no penalty too 
severe to be visited upon me. There is 
naught that can restore self-esteem to Edward 
Devereaux. But, I beseech you, believe me 


1 64 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

when I say that I knew not until now that 
yon maiden was a boy only in attire. My 
lord, believe this, and you may do with me 
as you will.” 

“ ’Tis true,” corroborated Francis. “ He is 
no more at fault for the encounter than I, my 
lord. And he knew not that I was not a 
boy, until, thinking that my end was near, I 
told him. I know not why I felt so 
weak.” 

Thou didst swoon, child,” said Lord 
Shrope. Tis a matter that is of frequent 
occurrence among thy sex. Didst never ex- 
perience it before ? ” 

“ Never,” replied Francis with a light 
laugh. Save for the sting and smart of the 
wound she was fully herself. “ And I like it 
not. faith, were I to have them often, 
there would be few sins of Francis Stafford’s 
that would be unknown.” 

Didst confess to Edward ? ” laughed Lord 
Shrope. You two should be great friends 
anent this.” 

“ No ; ” said Francis. I confessed that he 
killed the deer, and that its horns were justly 
his. I will not retract that, but still do I 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 165 

count him mine enemy, even as his father 
and mine are at feud.’' 

“ So be it,” said Edward Devereaux mourn- 
fully. Thou canst not, maiden, hate me 
more than I loathe myself.” 

Come, Francis,” said Lord Shrope, we 
must to my lady. We were filled with alarm 
when thou didst not come at the usual hour, 
and my lord and I have sought for thee 
everywhere. It was lucky chance that 
brought us this way. Child, child, I would 
that thy father had thee with him, or else 
were here. I would also that the queen were 
not so obdurate in her mind against thee. 
But she will not have thy name broached 
to her. Something lies underneath it all. 
Hadst thou been concerned in treasonous un- 
dertakings the matter would be plain. As it 
is — but why think of it? That wound of 
thine which to a man would be a mere 
scratch must with thee be looked to. Let us 
away.” 

The inconvenience caused by the hurt was 
short, but, before the girl resumed her place 
among the pages, Lord Shrope again ventured 
to speak of her to the queen. 


1 66 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


My liege/^ he said one morning when the 
queen had been particularly gracious to him, 
“ I would that you would let me speak of 
Francis Stafford. There is somewhat 

“Now a murrain on thee, Shrope, for 
mentioning that name,” cried Elizabeth her 
humor changing instantly. “ We, too, have 
somewhat to say of Francis Stafford, but the 
time is not yet ripe. When it is, then will I 
hear what thou hast to say. Until then we 
would not be plagued with the matter, 
nearest thou? ” 

“ I do, my sovereign mistress,” answered 
Lord Shrope humbly. “ I hear and will heed 
thy commands. Only take not from me thy 
divine favor.” 

“ Hadst thou ever been connected with any 
enterprise against her,” he said to Francis as 
he reported the result of the interview, “ I 
could understand it. As it is, her mood 
toward thee gives me great concern.” 

“ Trouble not thyself, my good friend,” an- 
swered Francis, though she herself was more 
disturbed than she cared to admit. Perhaps 
the journey to Chartley had come to the 
queen’s ears, and that enterprise wore a differ- 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 167 

ent complexion now to the girl than it had 
done ere her coming to the court. Trouble 
not about me. Thou canst do no more than 
thou hast done.’^ 

And so she went back to her place among 
the pages. The greeting between her and 
Edward Devereaux was formal. As the time 
passed she became aware that the lad’s 
manner toward her was quite different from 
what it had been before their encounter. 
Now he seemed to regard her with something 
akin to admiration, and assumed a protecting 
air toward her, assuming many of her duties, 
that irked the girl exceedingly. 

“ Prithee, sirrah,” she said one day pettishly 
when his guardianship was more than usually 
apparent, who gave thee leave to watch 
over me ? It irks me to have thee play the 
protector. Beshrew me, but Francis Stafford 
can care for herself.” 

I crave pardon. Master Stafford,” replied 
Devereaux who never by word or deed 
dropped a hint that he knew aught of her 
sex. “ I crave pardon if I have offended. I 
will vex thee no more.” 

From that time his care was more un- 


1 68 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


obtrusive, but Francis was still conscious of 
it, and it was gall and wormwood to her. 
She could not forget the acknowledgment of 
his skill had been wrung from her when she 
thought herself dying. Although she could 
not but admit that Devereaux was innocent 
in the matter, she felt as though a fraud had 
been perpetrated upon her, and, girl-like, 
held him responsible for it. 

And so life at the court went on. A great 
family under the same walls, loving and 
hating. The courtiers divided into factions ; 
their followers being kept from brawling only 
by the presence of the queen. The serving 
men followed the example of their betters 
and squabbled in the kitchen ; the butlers 
drank on the sly in the cellars ; the maids 
chattered in the halls ; the pages pilfered 
from the buttery ; the matrons busied in the 
still rooms compounding fragrant decoctions 
for perfumes, or bitter doses for medicine ; 
the stewards weighing money in the treasury ; 
gallants dueling in the orchard or meeting 
their ladies on the stairs. But Francis liked 
it all. 

The gallant courtiers with their song and 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 169 

fence, and quibble and prattle and pun ; the 
gaily dressed ladies ; the masques in the 
great hall of the castle ; the pomp and 
ceremony that attended the queen when she 
went abroad : all appealed to her aesthetic 
nature. 

She soon learned to distinguish the 
courtiers. The Gipsy Earl of Leicester, with 
his swarthy handsome face ; the tall and 
comely vice chamberlain. Sir Christopher 
Hatton ; the venerable Burleigh ; the trusty 
and wily Walsingham ; the gay, witty and 
sarcastic Harrington, godson of the queen, 
and the fiery and impetuous Earl of Essex, 
stepson to Leicester. 

Sometimes a low, broad-shouldered, heavily- 
built man would appear at court followed by 
brawny sailors who bore great chests of gold 
gathered from the Spanish Main. Then the 
court would be filled with the deeds of Sir 
Francis Drake, and of the wondrous happen- 
ings in that new world which lay over the 
sea. 

Youth does not examine closely below the 
surface, and so to the girl all was bright and 
beautiful. She herself would have entered 


1 70 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

into the life more fully, but that the cloud of 
the queen^s displeasure hung over her. There 
is no place where a sense of the august disap- 
probation makes itself so quickly felt as a 
court. And, as the days went by and Eliza- 
beth still refused to permit her approach, 
Francis found herself more and more isolated. 

Even the courtiers who had formerly called 
upon her to perform services for them now 
chose other of the pages, while the pages them- 
selves no longer stopped to chat or gossip with 
her. 

Thus the days went by. 


CHAPTER XVI 


WHAT CAME OF AN OFFER OF FRIENDSHIP 

One thing had puzzled Francis upon her 
first arrival at the court. That was the num- 
ber of those who had red hair. She soon 
came to know, however, that most of the la- 
dies wore wigs of false hair over their own 
tresses out of compliment to the queen. The 
demand for hair was therefore great, and fre- 
quently the supply was not equal to it. Divers 
means were employed to obtain such locks, as 
the girl soon found to her sorrow. 

“Where art thou from, my pretty page?’^ 
asked a lady one day pausing before her. 

“ Hampshire, an it please your ladyship,^’ 
answered Francis grateful for the attention. 
She thought the lady must have recently ar- 
rived else she would not stop to bandy words 
with one who was without the pale of the 
queen^s good will. 

“ Hampshire ? Ah, yes ! I passed through 
the shire once with Her Majesty on one of her 

171 


172 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

progresses/^ remarked she. My lad, know 
you that you are a pretty boy ? But certes I 
of course you do. Nathless, hear it again from 
me.^^ 

“ I thank your ladyship, returned Francis 
with blushing cheeks. Tis only your kind- 
ness that bids you so to speak. 

** Hear the boy ! laughed the lady, shaking 
her finger archly. Nay ; I shall not give 
thee more compliments, but I would have 
thee know that I am thy friend. I am aware 
that the queen regards thee with disfavor, and 
I would aid thee. If thou carest to know 
more come to the Round Tower which is the 
dormitory of the maids of honor this night. 
There is my bower. I am the Lady Priscilla 
Rutland. Know you the place? ” 

“Yes, my lady ; but why, why ? ” be- 

gan Francis, but the lady interrupted 
her. 

“ Fie, fie, naughty boy ! art thou so curious ? 
Ask no more until to-night.’’ With a quiz- 
zical look she went on her way leaving the 
girl staring after her. 

“What said the Lady Priscilla to thee?” 
demanded Edward Devereaux drawing near. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 173 

Beware of her, Francis Stafford. She is full 
of wiles and deceit. Tis unseemly to speak 
ill of a woman, but I would fain warn thee. 
When Mistress Priscilla is most gracious she 
is bent on mischief. Therefore do I bid thee 
to beware of her.’^ 

Am I so rich in friends that I can cast 
from me one who proffers amity ? ” inquired 
the girl bitterly. Who art thou, Master 
Devereaux, that thou sayst do this, or do that, 
and expect me to obey ? Thou art mine foe, 
the son of my father’s foe. What hast thou 
to do with me ? ” 

The son of thy father’s foe, ’tis true,” an- 
swered Devereaux, “ but not thine, Francis. 
I make no war on women though I did un- 
wittingly strike thee once. I repent me that 
ever I claimed to have slain that deer. Yet 
hear me, mistress. Had the foresters not 
come as they did, I would have given thee the 
horns. I came to thy father’s castle to offer 
them to thee, but dost thou remember how 
didst greet me with scorn ? And I, thinking 
thee to be thy brother, did answer in like 
manner.” 

Thou hast been long in the telling, mas- 


174 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

ter/’ remarked the girl scornfully. “ Dost ex- 
pect me to believe thee ? ” 

“ Upon mine honor it is the truth. But to 
the matter in hand. Believe me, ’tis for thy 
good to have naught to do with the Lady 
Priscilla Rutland. I have been longer at the 
court than thou and therefore know of that 
of which I speak.” 

“ I am tired of thy watching and prating,” 
declared Francis with spirit. I am no child 
to be chidden. Leave me, and know that 
Francis Stafford will do as seemeth best to 
her.” 

“ As you will, mistress. But if you come 
to grief blame me not,” and the lad walked 
away. 

“I hate him,” ejaculated the girl, her eyes 
filling with angry tears. I hate him with 
his trite speeches and his sage advice ! Why 
doth he not leave me in peace ? I will go to 
the Lady Priscilla were it only to show him 
that I regard not his words.” 

Nevertheless she could not but wonder 
why any lady should take such a sudden 
interest in her, and a slight misgiving lurked 
in her heart as she approached the Round 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 175 

Tower, entered its portals, and made her way 
to the Lady Priscilla’s bower. 

The lady was lying on a couch surrounded 
by her tire women. 

So, my pretty lad,” she said with a care- 
less glance, “ thou hast come. Didst thou not 
have enough of flattery ? Gramercy ! hath it 
not always been true that sugar would catch 
more flies than vinegar? ” 

What mean you ? ” stammered Francis, 
her sensitive nature becoming aware of the 
change in the lady’s manner from the caress- 
ing sweetness of the morning to the mocking 
air of the moment. 

Didst think thy beauty had ensnared 
me?” queried the lady quizzically. It 
hath. As the yellow metal of the earth hath 
always thrown a spell over men so the red 
gold of thy hair hath fascinated me. I dote 
on thy locks, my fair page. Ay ! so much so 
that they and I shall ne’er be parted more. 
Celeste ! Annabelle I have at him ! ” 

“ Why, why,” cried the girl, struggling to 
rise as the maids set upon her. “ My lady ! 
My lady ! ” 

But strong as her outdoor life had made 


176 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

her, she was no match for the damsels of the 
Lady Priscilla. Soon she lay back in her 
chair bound hand and foot. 

“No harm is meant thee, master page,’^ re- 
marked the lady as, armed with a huge pair 
of shears, she approached the maiden. “ ’Tis 
only that thy silken tresses have tangled my 
heart in their meshes until sleep hath fled my 
pillow. I think on their lustre day and 
night. And so do I take them to adorn mine 
own pate. Thinkest thou that they could 
cover a fairer head ? ’’ 

“ Oh, madam,” cried the girl tearfully as 
the shears snipped relentlessly over her head, 
for her hair had always been a weak point 
with her. “ O, spare my hair, I entreat ! ” 

“ Fie, sir page ! Thou dost shame thy man- 
hood. True, thou art yet guiltless of beard, 
yet still thou shouldst not play the woman.” 

“ But, madam, I shall report this to the 
queen. What think you she will say when 
she knows that one of her ladies was guilty 
of this outrage? ” 

“She would not listen to thee, malapert. 
Should she do so, I would say that Priscilla 
Rutland knew no peace until she could emu- 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 177 

late in her own locks the regal color that 
crowned her august mistress’ brow. That she 
would stoop to do anything could she but 
faintly follow such beauty. But I fear not 
thy disclosure, sirrah. Art thou not in dis- 
grace ? Then what boots it what thou sayst ? ” 
True ; ” said Francis and opened her lips 
no more. Clip, clip, went the shears until at 
last all of her ringlets lay, a mass of ruddy 
gold, in a great heap among the rushes. 
Francis looked at them, and then at the 
mocking face of the lady, and her heart 
throbbed with wrath. 

“ Madam,” she said as the Lady Priscilla 
untied her bonds and she was once more free, 
I will never forgive this.” 

Thou art rude, sirrah,” laughed the lady. 
“ But I blame thee not. Be patient, master 
page. I will come to thee when thy locks 
have been woven into a wig and thou shalt 
see how well they become me.” 

Thou shalt never wear hair of mine,” cried 
Francis, white with anger. Before the lady 
or her maids could prevent she seized a lamp 
from one of the scones and threw it into the 
midst of red curls. 


178 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

‘‘ Help ! Help ! ” cried the lady and the 
maids simultaneously, for the lamp which was 
of the simplest manufacture, being a wick fed 
by oil, set fire instantly to the curls and sur- 
rounding rushes. Scattering to the right and 
left the maids called lustily : “ Fire ! Fire ! 

Seize the boy ! 

Staying only long enough to see that there 
was no probability of saving the hair, Francis 
dashed through the arras, and fled through 
chamber after chamber trying to find an exit. 

“ This way,^^ she heard a voice call as, be- 
wildered and confused, she paused, not know- 
ing which way to turn. 

To her amazement, Edward Devereaux stood 
in a door of a chamber beckoning to her. She 
gave an exclamation of surprise but, enemy 
though she considered him, followed him 
without hesitation. Through a maze of rooms 
the boy led the w^ay with the air of one to 
whom they were familiar ; then down a flight 
of steps, through an open window and out 
upon a balcony that overlooked the great 
garden. 

We will conceal ourselves in the shrub- 
bery,^^ he said vaulting lightly over the rail 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 179 

into the garden below, followed closely by the 
girl. They stopped in the shadow of a clump 
of close clipped black yews. “ Here we can 
remain,” he said, until the hue and cry is 
over. What happened, Francis? ” 

Francis poured forth her story rapidly. 

“ I hate this vile court,” she cried with a 
burst of passionate tears as she concluded. “ I 
want my home ! Oh, I want to go home ! ” 

I blame you not, Francis Stafford,” said 
Edward Devereaux forbearing to taunt her 
with the fact that had she heeded his words 
this last misery would not have come upon 
her. You feel as we all feel at times, yet are 
we constrained to bide here. Were it in truth 
to serve the queen, God bless her, there would 
be joy in staying. But to be at the beck and 
call of every noble ; to bear the trains of the 
ladies or dance attendance upon them is not 
the life that a youth wishes. I pity thee, 
Francis, and thy plight is not so bad as it will 
be should yon tower burn to the ground.” 

“ Oh ! ” Francis looked up with startled 
eyes. “ I did not think of that. It was not 
my intent to burn the tower. Think you that 
it is in danger, Edward ? ” 


i8o IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


Mayhap not/^ answered the boy regarding 
the tower with anxious eyes. “We can but 
watch. 

The two stood looking at the building in 
silence. As the moments passed the lights 
disappeared from the windows, darkness 
settled over the tower, and all was quiet. 
Francis drew a long breath of relief. 

“ It was unthinking and unheeding in me 
to throw the light, she said. “ What if the 
building had burned ? The castle might have 
followed and thus endangered the life of the 
queen. Oh, miserable girl that I am I What 
would my father say to me ? 

“ Be not so cast down,’’ comforted Edward. 
“ Thou hadst great provocation, and pardon 
me, mistress, but thy temper is not of the 
gentlest.’^ 

“ I know,” said Francis with unwonted 
meekness. “ But when I saw my hair, my 
pretty hair,” she paused, her utterance choked, 
unwilling to give way to her grief before him. 

The boy touched the shorn head compas- 
sionately. 

“ ’Twill not be long before it will grow 
again,” he said. “ And so long as thou must 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE i8i 


wear that garb it will be all the better. I 
have seen many longing glances cast at thy 
locks, Francis. Tis wonder that such mishap 
hath not occurred before. If thou dost not 
wear them, thou hast at least put it out of 
their power to grace the head of another. 
There is something in that.’^ 

Yes ; said Francis with a flash of spirit. 
“ I would not that harm should come to the 
palace, yet glad am I that the tresses were 
consumed. Thou hast been kind to me, 
Master Devereaux. And yet thou art mine 
enemy ! ” 

Better an open enemy than a deceitful 
friend,’’ quoth Edward sententiously. ‘‘ Say 
no more, Francis Stafford. If I have been of 
service to thee, let it in some measure atone 
for my churlishness in killing that deer. But 
we must to our several abodes else we shall 
bring the displeasure of my lord chamberlain 
upon us. We shall have enough to answer to 
this charge. I fear the issue to-morrow. 
Come ! ” 


CHAPTER XVII 


WHAT FKANCIS OVERHEARD 

Francis awaited the coming of the day with 
some trepidation, fearing that she might be 
obliged to render an account of the night be- 
fore. And indeed had the result been other 
than it was, she would have been called to a 
very serious reckoning. It was marvelous 
that there was not more damage sustained, 
but it came to her ears during the day that 
the fire had been extinguished before it had 
gone beyond the rushes. The hair had been 
totally consumed. 

The girl soon became aware that the episode 
was known throughout the court. When the 
Lady Priscilla Rutland made her appearance 
there was subdued laughter and titterings 
among the ladies and their gallants. Francis’ 
shorn head was the cynosure of all eyes, but 
her manner was so haughty that it repelled 
all facetious remarks. 

The incident was recounted to Elizabeth. 
The queen laughed heartily at the discom- 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 183 

fiture of the lady for she was never ill pleased 
when one of her maids brought ridicule upon 
herself, and turning to Lord Shrope who stood 
near while it was being related she remarked 
graciously : 

Upon my word, my lord, there is more in 
that charge of thine than I thought. If cer- 
tain rumors which have come to our ears be 
not verified we will have him placed nearer 
our person. Methinks such spirit well trained 
could be made useful. 

You speak truly, madam,” returned Lord 
Shrope. I know not what is the nature of 
the rumors, but knowing Francis Stafford, I 
make bold to say that Rumor hath played 
thee false.” 

We shall see, my lord,” was Elizabeth's 
reply. 

Lord Shrope feared to press the matter, but 
as soon as it was expedient he hastened to 
seek Francis. 

“ The tide hath turned, child,” he ejacu- 
lated. “ Fate hath at last become propitious 
to thee, for Elizabeth hath begun to look 
upon thee with kindness. The accident of 
the hair hath done for thee what naught else 


1 84 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

hath been able to do,” and he told her what 
the queen had said. 

To his surprise Francis was not so elated as 
he expected. On the contrary his words filled 
her with alarm. 

Said the queen of what the rumors con- 
sisted ? ” she asked with uneasiness. 

No, child ; but there can be naught of 
harm in them. Thy life hath been so inno- 
cent in thy Hampshire wilds that there is no 
act or thought of thine but could be laid open 
to the queen. Thou hast naught to fear from 
any gossip. ’Tis only when conscious of base- 
ness that we fear to have our lives searched. 
Thou hast done nothing wrong ; therefore 
fear nothing.” 

My lord,” said Francis touched by his 
faith, you honor me too much. Pray 
Heaven that you may never have cause to re- 
pent your words.” 

Tut, child ! why should I repent them ? 
Now be advised by me, and take advantage of 
the humor of the queen. A good husband- 
man, as thou knowest, improves the sunshine 
to make hay. We must do likewise. It is 
the queen’s habit to repair to her closet to 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 185 

play each day upon the virginals. This she 
doeth for the most part privately, but, as she 
plays markedly well, she is not ill pleased to 
have others hear her. Especially is this true 
if it transpires accidentally. Now do you 
place yourself in the gallery behind the arras. 
When the queen plays seem to be drawn into 
her presence by the sweetness of her music, 
even as Orpheus drew Eurydice from among 
the demons. Then excuse thy intrusion with 
some well-timed phrase. Elizabeth is great, 
but she hath a weakness for judicious flat- 
tery the which, in truth, doth not ill accord 
with her femininity. Then, if she receive 
thee graciously, throw thyself upon her mercy 
and confess all.’’ 

But, my lord, doth it not savor too much 
of guile ? ” objected Francis, her spirit revolt- 
ing at the manner of the transaction. 

It doth, Francis, but what would you ? 
’Tis the manner of all courts, and the queen 
is not deceived thereby. Such things the 
rather appeal to her if the fashion of them be 
adroit. What boots the method then if the 
end is accomplished, and the queen pleased. 
No harm is done.” 


1 86 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


My lord, I like not the style of it. It 
seemeth to me that nothing is ever done in a 
straightforward manner any more. Is life 
full of naught but crookedness and devious 
windings and turnings? Let me go to the 
queen openly, I beseech you.’^ 

“ Nay ; ^twill avail thee nothing. Subdue 
thy pride for once, and be guided by one to 
whom all the ways of the court are as an open 
book. Thou dost hold th3^self with too much 
of spirit. Set not thyself above those who are 
older and of superior wisdom.’’ 

Francis felt the rebuke so sharply spoken, 
and answered in a conciliatory manner. 

^^My lord, I intend not to hold my judg- 
ment higher than thine for thou art of su- 
perior wisdom and age. I am willing to be 
guided by thee, but I would that the end 
could be gained by other ways than those of 
crookedness.” 

“ ’Tis for thy parents’ sake as well as thine,” 
observed the other. “ Thou knowest how full 
of anxiety they must be, and how solicitously 
they await thy return. Thou shouldst be 
willing to adopt any course that would allay 
that uneasiness and restore thee to their arms,” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 187 

And I am willing/^ responded the girl 
with fervor. “ Away, indecision ! Away, 
doubts ! No longer will I listen to ye ; for 
what says Will Shakspeare : 

“ * Our doubts are traitors. 

And make us lose the good we oft might win. 

By fearing to attempt.* 

Speak on, my lord. Unfold again thy plan, 
and I will follow it, be the issue what it 
may.^^ 

“ There spake the Stafford blood,’^ ex- 
claimed the nobleman approvingly. Listen, 
girl, then haste thee to the queen^s gallery ; 
for on the hazard of this die depends thy for- 
tune.’^ 

Francis gave heed to all of his instructions, 
and then made her way to the queen’s apart- 
ment. The chamber was unoccupied, and she 
looked about in quest of some suitable hiding- 
place. At one end of the room the mullioned 
window opened upon a long balcony which 
overlooked the private garden. Francis re- 
solved to place herself there rather than be- 
hind the rich tapestries. 

She had scarcely taken her position near an 


1 88 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


open window where she could both see and 
hear without being herself seen when Eliza- 
beth entered. To the girTs consternation she 
was not alone, but attended by Walsingham, 
Burleigh, Hatton and Leicester. 

Elizabeth seemed much agitated, and Fran- 
cis, unwilling to be a listener in matters of 
state, looked about her for some means of re- 
tiring when her attention was caught by a name. 

And thou art sure, Walsingham, of the 
truth of this matter ? Hast thou indisputa- 
ble proofs that Anthony Babington is guilty 
of design to murder us ? Long have I known 
that he inclined toward the claims of our 
cousin, Mary of Scotland, but so too do my 
Lord Stafford, my Lord Percy, and other of 
our subjects. Yet none of these gentlemen 
would lift a hand against the person of his 
queen. Art sure of what thou art saying? ” 

“ I have here the proofs. Your Majesty,” re- 
turned Walsingham. ‘‘ Here is a tablet upon 
which is painted the face of Babington and 
five others who are associated with him in 
perilous enterprise, as thou seest engraved. 
Further : here are letters which have passed 
between Mary of Scotland and the conspira- 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 189 

tors in which she commends the performance 
of the deed. The act was to be committed on 
thy way to chapel.’^ 

Then, my lord, if this be true, why have 
you not apprehended these men ? Methinks 
that the safety of your queen should be your 
first consideration.” 

“ Her Highness is right,” cried Leicester. 

Upon her life depends not only the safety of 
her ministers but the welfare of the Com- 
monwealth.” 

“ Pardon me, my liege lady,” said Walsing- 
ham, if I have seemed to be careless of that 
life which is so dear to all of us. But I 
wished to involve Mary so deeply in this con- 
spiracy as to open the way to rid the country 
of her. Your Majesty will never be safe while 
that woman lives. She is a menace as long as 
she remains in England.” 

“ Deport her then,” suggested Elizabeth. 
“France would gladly receive her.” 

“ Nay, madam. That were to place her 
where she could abet the design of Phillip to 
invade England. That bourne from which no 
traveler returns is the only proper abode for 
Mary Stuart. And for thy protection, madam, 


190 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

I took precautions. Ballard, the priest, as 
thou knowest, hath long since been confined in 
the Tower. Babington has been lodged in 
mine own house where I could watch him. 
He can be taken at any time. That time hath 
now come. The warrants are issued, not only 
for him, but for Tilney, Savage, Tichbourne, 
Stafford and other conspirators associated in 
the enterprise.” 

Stafford ! Francis gave a faint gasp, and 
started up in terror. Her father ? Was he to 
be taken with these men? But the queen 
was speaking : 

“ Lord Stafford ? ” she said interrogatively. 
“ Stafford, Walsingham ? Surely not he. He 
is an honorable gentleman, and would not be 
concerned in such foul designs.” 

Did I not tell you some time since that it 
was whispered in mine ear that Stafford and 
his son delivered letters to Mary ? The whis- 
per hath become a certainty. Those letters 
were to apprise the queen of the intent to slay 
thee, deliver her from custody, and raise her 
to the throne. This hour will I send to arrest 
Lord Stafford as well as the others. And 
then ” 



gave a faint gasp 




IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 191 

Death to the traitors/^ said Burleigh im- 
pressively. They must perish, as must all 
who are traitors to England and to England’s 
queen.” 

Francis waited to hear no more. Her father 
to be taken and tried for treason ? That would 
mean death. She must warn him. 

She ran quickly to the other end of the 
balcony, and swung herself over the balus- 
trade. Hastily she made her way through the 
grounds to Lord Shrope’s lodgings, bursting in 
upon that astonished nobleman just as he was 
about to partake of his dinner. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


AN ADVENTURE 

I MUST see thee, my lord, alone,’’ she cried 
in such tones that her friend arose without a 
word and conducted her into his own with- 
drawing room. 

How now, Francis? What mishap hath 
attended thy enterprise ? Gramercy, girl ! 
what is it? Thou art disheveled and as ex- 
cited as though some untoward accident had 
befallen thee. What said the queen? Say 
what hath happened ? ” 

My lord,” gasped the girl scarcely able to 
articulate, once thou didst love my father. 
For the sake of that love, I pray you, grant 
me aid to reach him.” 

“ Child, what is it ? ” cried he in alarm 
Tell me what hath occurred ? Hath Eliza- 
beth sent thee from her ? ” 

I have not seen the queen,” said Francis 
trying to speak with calmness. “ After I had 
hidden myself as you bade me, the queen in 

192 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 193 

company with Hatton, Lord Burleigh, Sir 
Francis Walsingham and Lord Leicester en- 
tered the chamber. They discovered to her a 
plot to slay her, and to elevate Mary of Scot- 
land to the throne, furthered by Anthony 
Babington, and others, among whom they 
named my father. My lord, I must go to him. 
Aid me I beseech you.^^ 

Lord Shrope’s face turned white, and he 
withdrew himself from the girFs clinging 
hands. 

“ A plot to slay the queen ? The saints de- 
fend us ! Girl, I cannot, I dare not aid thee. 
It would he as much as my life is worth.” 

“ You must, my lord. I must reach my 
father. I must and will, my lord.” 

If William Stafford be concerned in con- 
spiracy against Elizabeth he must abide the 
consequences. I will aid no traitor to the 
queen.” 

“ My lord, he is no traitor,” cried the girl in 
despair. He did wish to release Mary from 
bondage, for he had compassion on her misery 
as who hath not ? But that he is party to the 
design to murder the queen, I deny. I know, 
my lord, I know.” 


194 DOUBLET AND HOSE 

“ What do you know ? Are you too en- 
gaged in conspiracies ? I thought thee as in- 
nocent as the daisy that grows in thy father’s 
field.” 

“ I am in no plots nor conspiracies, sir,” 
declared Francis. “ But we lose time in idle 
words. Give me thine aid to reach my father, 
I implore thee.” 

“ Never, girl ! And thou, — thou must be 
restrained of thy liberty, for I see that thou 
knowest much of this matter.” 

He turned toward the door as he spoke, but 
Francis was before him. 

‘‘ My lord,” she said, and there was deter- 
mination in her manner, “thou shalt not 
touch me, nor cause others to touch me. 
Heaven be my witness that I speak truth 
when I say that my father is innocent of de- 
sign to murder the queen. I must have means 
to reach him, and thou must give them to 
me.” 

“Must? Thou useth strange terms, girl! 
Not only will I not give thee aid, but I will 
take thee into custody.” 

He sprang toward her, but the girl turned 
upon him fiercely with uplifted dagger. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 195 

Lay but one finger upon me, and I will 
slay thee,’’ she said in a low intense voice. 
Francis Stafford, this from you ? ” 

Ay, sir, from me. I would kill thee, ot 
any who sought to hold me from my father. 
The queen herself should not keep me from 
him.” 

Seditious girl ! those are words of treason.” 

“ I care not,” cried Francis recklessly. “ I 
care not, my lord. And if thou wilt not give 
me aid thy life shall pay the forfeit.” 

Dost threaten me, girl ? ” 

Ay ! if you deny me. I will slay thee and 
take thy signet ring.” 

“ If I aid thee, what then ? ” 

I will tell no word of it to any man,” de- 
clared she earnestly. No word, my lord. 
Thou shalt not be implicated in any manner, 
as indeed, why should you ? I am determined 
to reach my father, and if to do so I must kill 
thee, I will do so.” 

“ I believe in thee, Francis. Thy love for him 
is great. For the sake of that love, and also 
for that which once I bore him, I will aid thee. 
Not because of thy threats, girl. They are 
but talk of an excited brain.” 


196 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

“ Nay, my lord ; you do me wrong. I 
would carry them out if it were necessary, 
albeit I am glad to have gained the end with- 
out bloodshed.” 

Here is my signet ring, Francis. By that 
token the boatmen will take thee to London. 
By that token also thou mayest obtain horses 
at my house. Go, girl ! Even now thou 
mayest be too late. As for me, with that ring 
on thee, ^twill be my undoing, but — take it.” 

Say that I stole it, my lord. Say that I 
forced it from thee,” cried Francis, receiving 
it from him joyfully. 

“ That thou forced it from me ? ” echoed Lord 
Shrope with a laugh. “ Why, girl, I had 
rather be beheaded.” 

Then will I leave it at thy house in Lon- 
don when I shall have obtained a horse,” said 
the girl dropping upon one knee by his side. 

Forgive me, my lord, for my words,” and 
she kissed his hand with fervor. Thou hast 
always been kind to me, but my father, sir. 
There is naught that I would not do for him.” 

Thou art forgiven. But hasten ! Time is 
precious.” 

Without further parley Francis bounded 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 197 

from the room, and hurried through the pal- 
ace yard, out of the great gate and down to 
the steps that led to the river. 

Within the yard and at the landing-place 
there was a great deal of confusion. Servitors 
were running to and fro, courtiers were grouped 
together talking excitedly, while numerous 
officials and dignitaries were taking boat for 
London. Among these latter the girl dis- 
cerned the form of Walsingham, the queen^s 
secretary of state. Her heart sank at sight 
of him. 

He goes to send pursuivants for my father,’^ 
was her thought, and her conclusion was cor- 
rect. The secretary was indeed on his way to 
cause the arrest of the conspirators. 

Seeing her among the followers of Walsing- 
ham, the watermen permitted her to enter one 
of the wherries and she found herself being 
carried to London more expeditiously than 
would otherwise have been the case. There 
was no indulgence on the part of the boatmen 
in song. Stern and silent they bent to their 
oars, responding with all their mights to 
Walsingham’s “ Faster, my men, faster ! 

It seemed to Francis that they no sooner 


198 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

reached London than the whole city was 
ablaze with the news. Traffic was suspended, 
and citizens discussed in hushed accents the 
plot to kill the queen. 

Francis made haste to Lord Shrope’s house 
in Broad Street, and by means of the ring, 
procured an excellent horse. Mounting him 
she urged the animal to great speed and was 
soon outside the city. 

“ Heaven grant that I may reach my father 
before Walsingham^s men,” she murmured. 

I have gotten the start of them somehow. 
Let me make the most of it.” 

Now the reason for her advantage was this : 
several of the conspirators, notably the six 
who had associated together to assassinate the 
queen, were in London awaiting their oppor- 
tunity. Anthony Babington lodged at Wal- 
singham^s own house, lured there by the wily 
secretary under pretense of taking him into 
his confidence ; while Babington, to further 
his own ends, seemingly acquiesced in the 
minister’s plans. It was a case of duplicity 
against duplicity, craft matched against craft, 
with the odds on the side of Elizabeth’s brainy 
secretary. For the reason that the chief con- 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 199 

spirators were in London, Walsingham tarried 
there to apprehend them before sending forth 
to arrest the other gentlemen concerned in the 
plot who lived somewhat remotely from the 
city. But the conspirators had gotten wind 
of his intentions, and when he reached the 
city they had fled. 

All this the girl did not know until long 
afterward. Now she pushed forward with the 
utmost expedition, hoping to reach the Hall 
before the pursuivants started. The weather 
was warm, it being the last of July, and the 
Hall was two days’ journey from London by 
hard riding. Therefore whatever distance she 
might gain in the first stage of the trip would 
be of incalculable advantage. 

Toward the end of the day, her horse show- 
ing great signs of fatigue, Francis was of neces- 
sity forced to allow the animal to settle into a 
walk. As the steed slackened pace the girl re- 
lapsed into thought. So absorbed did she be- 
come that she was startled into something 
closely akin to fright when a man sprang from 
behind some trees, ran into the road, and 
seized her horse by the bridle. 

At this time the woods and forests of Eng- 


200 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


land were infested by highwaymen, gipsies, or 
Egyptians as they were called, and wandering 
vagrants whose depredations had been the 
cause of severe legislation to rid the country 
of its pests. It had not occurred to Francis 
that she might be molested by any of these, 
and she could not forbear a slight scream at 
the appearance of the man. 

His clothing, though of rich material, was 
torn and ragged as though it had been caught 
by thorns in the unfrequented paths of the 
forest. His head was bare of covering, his 
locks disheveled ; his face and hands were of an 
uneven dark color as though stained with 
some decoction unskilfully applied. His 
whole manner was so distraught that Francis 
trembled excessively. 

Boy,^’ cried the man wildly, “ dismount, 
and give me thy horse. 

At the first sound of his voice the girl 
started violently, leaned forward and scanned 
his face keenly. 

Anthony Babington,’^ she cried as she 
recognized the unhappy man, '' how came you 
here?” 

You know me ? ” cried Babington in dis- 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 201 


may. Who in the fiend^s name are you that 
know me ? 

“ One that knows all of your nefarious pur- 
pose,” said Francis accusingly, her girl nature 
imputing to this man her father’s trouble. 
“ Wretched man, knowestthou that the queen’s 
men search for thee even now ? ” 

Ha ! ” cried Babington peering into her 
face, ’tis the page that was with Stafford at 
Salisbury. Boy, where is thy master ? ” 

“ At Stafford Hall.” 

“ And thou ! Thou art not with him. 
Hast thou been at court? ” Babington peered 
suspiciously into her countenance. 

Yes ; ” answered the unsuspecting girl. I 
have been at court, Anthony Babington, where 
all thy deed is known. The whole pal- 
ace, ay 1 the whole city of London is in an 
uproar because of the discovery of thy inten- 
tion to kill the queen. I was present when 
the matter was discovered to the queen. 
Death will be thy portion if thou art appre- 
hended. Why stand you here ? If you would 
save yourself, fly ! ” 

Thou present when it was discovered ? 
Then it is thou who hast betrayed us ? Var- 


202 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


let ! Base brawler of men’s secrets I die, ere 
thou caiist betray others.” 

His dagger flashed in the air as he spoke, 
but ere it could descend Francis gave him a 
sharp, stinging cut across the face with her 
whip. With a cry of rage Babington let fall 
the poniard, and before he could regain the 
weapon the girl dashed away. On she rode, 
never stopping until at length the night fell, 
and she knew that she was far from the 
wretched Babington. 


CHAPTER XIX 


A SHELTER FROM THE STORM 

The morning of the second day found 
Francis once more on her way without having 
seen any of the queen^s men. The day was 
unusually warm, and both the girl and her 
horse, wearied by the hard riding, showed the 
effects of the journey. But fatigued though 
she was she pushed resolutely on, pausing only 
to care for the tired animal. At length the 
road entered a deep wood and she gave a sigh 
of relief as the grateful shade of the trees en- 
veloped her. The horse too seemed to revive 
somewhat and went forward with more brisk- 
ness. 

So dense was the shade that Francis was 
not aware that the sky had become overcast 
with clouds until a distant peal of thunder 
broke upon her ear. 

A storm is coming,’^ she cried. I must 
seek shelter ; but where ? 

It was a problem that would have puzzled a 

203 


1 


204 DOUBLET AND HOSE 

head older and wiser than that of Francis 
Stafford. She was in the midst of a dense 
forest. She looked about her in dismay. 

“ Beshrew me ! ’’ she uttered, these woods 
are impenetrable enough to furnish hiding- 
place for Robin Hood and all his men. 
Surely there must be an inn or house some- 
where near. Patience ! I will find shelter. 
On, good horse ! ’’ 

The mutterings of the thunder became 
louder and deeper as the storm approached. 
The clouds scudded across the heavens swiftly, 
borne on the wings of a heavy wind. Sud- 
denly a blinding flash of lightning zigzagged 
across the sky followed by a deafening crash 
of thunder, and the storm broke in all its 
force. The rain came down in torrents. The 
trees bent and swayed in the wind, tossing 
their proud heads as if in defiance to the storm 
king. The horse snorted in terror as flash 
after flash of lightning blazed across the road. 
Francis was drenched to the skin, but she 
struggled on, soothing the frightened animal 
as best she could. 

Presently she thought she saw an opening 
in the trees. Drawing closer she was over- 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 205 

joyed to find that there really was a path 
through the wood. Turning into it she fol- 
lowed it for some distance, finally coming to 
an open glade where stood what looked to be 
an ancient inn. 

One wing had fallen into decay. The rose 
covered trellis of the porch lay rotting on the 
ground. All about the building hung an air 
of dilapidation and decay that forbade the 
thought of cheer. One part of the tumbled 
down structure looked as though it might 
serve as a shelter, and the girl hastened to the 
door of this portion and knocked. 

There was no response, and Francis rapped 
again ; this time more loudly than before, re- 
solving to force the door should there be no 
answer. She waited a few moments, and then 
there came a high shrill voice from behind the 
closed door. 

Who’s there ? ” 

One who desires shelter from the storm. 
Open, i’ God’s name ! ” 

And who be ye that seek shelter of Dame 
Margery ? Know you not that men call me 
the white witch ? ” 

“ I care not,” exclaimed Francis impatiently. 


2o6 in doublet and HOSE 


Open, woman, else I will force the 
door/^ 

There was a muttering of protest, then the 
bolts were drawn, and the door opened. A 
woman stood in the aperture. A woman, old 
and bent, and looking not unlike the witch 
she called herself. A hood of brown sat on 
her white hair ; a brown lappet was thrown 
about her, and she supported herself by means 
of a staff Her black eyes regarded the girl 
with keenness from under her shaggy brows. 

Now thou art brave, forsooth, who dares 
take shelter here,” she said. “ There are those, 
and they are many, who would brave the 
fiercest storm rather than risk Dame Mar- 
gery’s evil eye.” 

But not I,” said Francis boldly. Never- 
theless she made the sign of the cross, for the 
age was a superstitious one and the belief in 
witches and witchcraft well nigh universal. 

Good dame, tell me, I pray, where I may 
put my horse. Give us both shelter, and thou 
shall have this angel for thy guerdon.” 

She held the gold piece out as she spoke. 
The woman’s fingers closed over it eagerly. 

“ Back of the house are the stables,” she 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 207 

said a trifle more civilly. There will ye And 
food for the beast as well as cover. But thou 
wilt have to be thine own groom, young sir. 
These old bones be racked with rheums.” 

I thank you,” answered Francis briefly. 
Following the direction indicated by the bel- 
dame she led her horse round the house where 
she found the stables in somewhat better con- 
dition than she had expected. After looking 
after the welfare of the animal she muttered 
a short prayer, and entered the dwelling with 
a bold front. 

The door gave entrance into a large, low 
ceiled room whose rafters were grimed with 
smoke and dirt. A low bed stood in one 
corner of the room ; a small deal table and 
three chairs completed the simple furnishings, 
but the girl’s eyes were caught by the strings 
of herbs that depended from the walls, and 
the cabalistic signs that were everywhere in 
evidence. A Are burned on the hearth and 
over it, depending from a crane, hung a large 
kettle in which something savory was brew- 
ing. 

A black cat which had been stretched near 
the Are rose at her entrance, and spat as if he 


2o8 in doublet and HOSE 


resented the intrusion as well as his mistress. 
Francis glanced at the mysterious signs, the 
J3lack cat, the old woman, and a half wish 
came into her mind that she had braved the 
fury of the storm rather than enter such an 
abode. As if in answer to her thought the 
dame spoke : 

“ Draw nigh the fire, boy, and dry thy wet 
garments. Marry ! hearest thou the rain ? 
Even the dwelling of a witch, I trow, is better 
than to be out in’t. Hark ! 

The storm had redoubled its fury. The 
wind shrieked and howled as though a thou- 
sand demons were loosed from durance and 
were exulting in their freedom. The rain 
came down in sheets, while peal on peal of 
thunder crashed and rolled. Francis shud- 
dered and drew nearer the fire. The steam 
arose from her saturated garments, and ren- 
dered her uncomfortable. The old woman 
noticed her discomfort and said not unkindly : 

“ Boy, no garments have I of thy sex, but 
if thou wilt play the woman for the nonce 
thou canst have of mine apparel until thine 
own be dried.’’ 

For the first time since she had left the 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 209 


court Francis laughed. She flushed rosy red 
under the old woman’s glance, and then grew 
bewildered and confused at her continued 
scrutiny, and answered with an effort at self- 
command. 

I thank you, my good dame, but I will 
stay as I am an it please you.” 

Content yourself, — master,” answered the 
dame with the slightest hesitation before the 
word. ’Twas but to soften thy distress.” 

She spoke no more, but busied herself about 
the brew over the fire. Presently she placed 
some of the stew before the girl, saying, 

Eat, sir. Thou wilt find it to thy liking, 
I trow.” 

It is in sooth,” replied Francis falling to 
heartily. Under the influence of warmth and 
comfort her fear of the woman had vanished. 

Think you, good mother, that the storm will 
soon pass ? ” 

Nay ; ” answered she her face softening 
at the apellation. Not till midnight comes; 
for 


“ When storm comes at end of day 
The midnight hour takes the rain away.* ** 


The girl’s face clouded. 


210 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


Then I must forth at midnight/’ she de- 
clared. 

‘‘ Thy need must be urgent that impels 
thee onward through the darkness,” observed 
the woman keenly. Boy, what is thy busi- 
ness? Would have me read the stars for its 
issue ? ” 

“ Nay, mother,” answered Francis in agi- 
tated tones. ‘‘Were it favorable all would 
be well, but if it were evil I would not know 
of it. But it will not be ill. It must not, 
shall not be ! ” 

She arose and paced the floor, chaflng that 
she must be inactive when time was so pre- 
cious. The dame regarded her curiously. 
Presently she spoke. 

“ Mistress, I may not call thee because of 
thy garb. Master, I cannot because of thy sex ; 
but whatsoe’er thou art, tell old Margery why 
thou art so dressed, and why you wander 
forth alone ? ” 

“ Woman, are you in very truth a witch ? ” 
cried the girl in astonishment. 

“ So men call me,” returned Margery dryly. 

“ But save for the few who were told, not 
one at the court penetrated my masquerade,” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 211 


said Francis. Then how is it, that thou, at 
our first meeting, know that my dress covers 
a maiden ? 

Old Margery hath lived long, and her 
eyes are sharp, answered the dame. “ But 
tell me. What brings you hither, if you are 
of the court? ” 

Francis paused in front of the woman and 
looked long and earnestly into her eyes. 
Something she saw there made her say im- 
pulsively : 

Good mother, thou must be in truth the 
witch men call thee, because thine eyes impel 
me to tell thee all. Listen ! and I will unfold 
the tale from the beginning.’^ And she re- 
counted the affair of Elizabeth's coming, the 
reason for donning the page’s dress, her going 
to court, and now the cause of her desire to 
reach her^ father. The woman listened at- 
tentively. 

Child, thou hast done well. And thou 
sayst that none of the queen’s men have passed 
thee?” 

“ None, mother. I have outstripped them 
all,” exulted Francis. Let me but continue 
in the lead for a few hours longer so that my 


212 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


father may have opportunity to get to a place 
of safety, and I care not how soon they come.’^ 
At this moment there came the sound of 
hoarse shouting of men, followed by the clat- 
ter of horses’ hoofs, and then above the storm 
came a loud knocking at the door. 

“ Open in the name of the queen,” came the 
stern command. 


CHAPTER XX 


FRANCIS FINDS A HELPER 

“It is the pursuivants,’^ cried Francis in 
consternation. “ Good mother, hide me, I en- 
treat. They must not know that I am here.” 

Then, indeed, was she thankful that she 
had taken the old woman into her confidence. 
The beldame arose and with an agility that 
was surprising in one of her years glided 
across the room, and opened a small door that 
was so small, and black, and grimy that it 
had escaped the girl’s attention. 

“ Enter,” whispered the woman. “ Enter 
and fear nothing. They shall not know of 
thy presence.” 

Francis passed through the entrance and 
closed the door after her just as the rapping 
came again with renewed vigor. 

“ What, ho inside ! ” came a voice. “ Give 
entrance, whosoe’er ye be, else it will be made 
by force.” 

“ Now who be ye who would seek admit- 

213 


214 DOUBLET AND HOSE 

tance to the house of a white witch ? ” asked 
Dame Margery's shrill voice. 

Gramercy I we will show who we be," and 
there was a sound as of a man pressing against 
the panels of the door. The dame undid the 
fastenings and threw open the door. A man 
who had evidently put his shoulder against it 
for the purpose of forcing an entrance sprawled 
his entire length on the floor. With a loud 
laugh at his discomforture several other men 
crowded into the room. 

“ Marry ! what an unmannerly welcome," 
cried the man picking himself up. “ My good 
woman, is this the way to receive guests ? " 

Be that the way to enter a body’s house ? " 
cried the dame. “Ye bean’t gentle, surely, 
else ye would know that an old woman can’t 
move the swiftest when she’s bent with the 
rheums." 

“ I crave thy pardon, dame," said the leader 
who was evidently a man of high degree. “ I 
crave thy pardon for such an unceremonious 
entrance. I thought that no one was within. 
Give us shelter from the storm and supper. 
Then must we on our way. We pay for your 
trouble." 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 215 

“ Well, ye won’t get either supper or shelter 
here. Do ye take this for an inn ? ” she asked 
querulously. 

Nay, dame ; for then would we find greet- 
ing and good cheer,” returned the leader good 
naturedly. This seemeth more in truth like 
witch’s dwelling. Whatsoe’er it be here we 
stay until the storm abates. We are from the 
queen, woman.” 

Dame Margery said no more, but began to 
bestir herself about the supper. 

Some of you see about the horses,” com- 
manded the leader, placing himself before the 
fire. 

Two of the men went out and presently re- 
turned. 

** ’Tis a crazy sort of a barn, sir,” said one, 
but it encloses as good a bit of horsefiesh as 
e’er trod a heath. How now, dame ? Where 
didst thou get so fine a horse ? ” 

Are there men here other than us ? ” asked 
the leader hastily. “ If there be we must 
look to ourselves for we are on the queen’s 
business, and naught must delay us.” 

No men, sir,” answered Margery. 

The stable is bad, sayst thou, Martin ? ” 


2 16 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


with an expression of relief on his face as he 
heard the dame’s reply. The dwelling, too, is 
none of the best.” 

“ None asked ye to enter it,” said the 
woman bluntly. “ An ye like not mine 
abode, ye can leave it.” 

“ Hold thy tongue, old beldame ! ” said the 
leader imperiously. “ Nay ; ” as the dame 
flashed an angry glance at him, “ be not prod- 
igal of thy looks. An thou cast the evil eye 
on me. I’ll sheathe my blade in thy flesh. 
We want no witch’s work here.” 

Margery made no answer, but placed the 
supper before them. The men fell to, and 
soon disposed of all that was on the table. 
Then the leader began to show signs of im- 
patience for the storm had not yet subsided. 

Beshrew me ! ” he exclaimed to his com- 
panions. “ I fear that we will be compelled 
to pass the night in this vile place. Marry I 
how it rains ! ” 

“ It doth. Master Wainwright,” answered 
one. “ But better the storm than pass the 
night in the abode of a witch, and if yon dame 
be not the veriest witch in the kingdom then 
I ne’er saw one. The house makes me creepy. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 217 

Tis fitting place for some dark deed to be 
committed. The horse in the stable, I dare 
say, belonged to some belated traveler caught 
like ourselves in a storm afar from an inn. 
Marked you how she answered me not when I 
spoke onT ? How the wind howls, and how 
blue the taper burns ! ’Sblood ! Td sooner 
be out in the storm. 

I would not,’^ observed Master Wain- 
wright. One drenching a day is enough for 
me. Marry ! there is naught to do but to 
possess our souls in patience. I dare say, we 
will overtake the boy on the morrow.” 

“ Marry ! yes, master. If he be out in this 
storm he will drown like a rat. Who would 
have thought that he could have kept so far 
ahead of us? ” 

^^They ride fast who flee from justice,” 
quoth another sententiously. “ If we be not 
careful he will outstrip us, and we will be void 
of our quarry.” 

Be not alarmed. We will overtake him,” 
reassured the leader. Though I like not for 
the storm to continue. It delays us too much.” 
He mused for a moment and then turned to 
the dame suddenly. 


2i8 in doublet and HOSE 


My good woman/^ he said, “ have ye seen 
aught of a boy to-day ? 

A boy ? What boy ? asked she stupidly. 

A boy of the court in page’s dress. Hast 
thou seen him? ” 

No boy have I seen this day,” answered 
the dame stolidly. “ Marry ! nor for many 
days for the matter of that. What did ye 
want with the boy ? ” 

“We have a warrant for his arrest,” said 
the leader. “ Also one for his father. Lord 
William Stafford. What think you, my good 
dame ? There has been foul attempt to slay 
the queen.” 

“Ye do well to say ^ attempt,’ ” said the 
woman. “ Elizabeth will never die by the 
hand of an assassin.” 

“Say ye so?” asked the leader eagerly. 
“ Good dame, how will she die ? ” 

“ Not in her bed. No hand shall be raised 
against her, and she dies by misease ; yet shall 
she not die in bed,” and the old woman nod- 
ded prophetically. 

“ Ask her how long the queen will live,” 
whispered one. “ The queen waxeth in years 
and it may not be amiss to be prepared.” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 219 

Seek no further, sir,^^ said Margery 
quickly. “ Know that thou wilt never live 
to see the day of her death. Thy time is nigh.’^ 

“ Now a murrain on thee for that foul 
prophecy,” cried the man starting up, his 
hand on the hilt of his sword. But Master 
Wainwright interposed. 

No brawling, sirrah. We are on the 
queen^s business. Thou and thy right arm 
may be needed ere it be completed. Have 
done ! ” 

The man sank back. Quiet fell upon them, 
broken only by the sweep of the rain against 
the house and the fitful howling of the wind. 
Night deepened, and still the storm continued. 
The men disposed themselves about the hearth 
for their damp clothing made them chilly, 
and soon one after another fell into slumber, 
until, after a time, all were asleep. Then 
Dame Margery rose to her feet and tiptoeing 
to the small door opened it, and passed out of 
the room. 

Francis stood just within where she could 
hear everything that went on in the outer 
chamber. She came forward eagerly as the 
woman entered. 


220 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


Mother/’ she cried, those men must be 
detained here, but how? Canst thou help 
me ? ” 

Child, I could make them sleep until the 
sun was high noon, but they are about the 
queen’s business, and I durst not.” 

Good mother, tell me how, and let me do 
it,” coaxed Francis. I must get to my 
father. O, if you have ever had a loved one, 
for the sake of that one, give me the aid I ask. 
I am but a girl. Weak and helpless with the 
great queen and her ministers against me. 
Yet I must warn my father. O dame, I lack 
so little of being home. If I had a few 
hours more, just a few hours! Please, good 
mother,” — she paused, and flinging her arms 
around the woman’s neck, she kissed her. 
Dame Margery’s frame shook and she held the 
girl close. Then she whispered, stroking her 
hair softly : 

My bonny maiden, thou shalt have thy 
wish. For that kiss I would give thee any- 
thing. It hath been years since Margery felt 
the touch of fresh young lips. Men fear me, 
and children shun me, but thou hast not. 
Once more, child.” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 221 


Gratefully Francis kissed her ; not once but 
many times. Then the dame stole softly out, 
and the girl followed her. To a corner cup- 
board the old woman went, and taking out a 
phial that held some dark mixture she held it 
to the light for a second and shook it gently. 
Then with that marvelous agility that had 
caused Francis to wonder earlier in the even- 
ing she glided among the sleeping men and 
let fall a tiny drop of the decoction near the 
nostrils of each slumberer. A sweet odor 
filled the room so subtle and penetrating that 
the girl beat a hasty retreat into the smaller 
chamber, fearing that she too might be over- 
come by it. 

Come, child,^^ called Margery. They 
sleep as slept the seven sleepers of long ago. 
And so they will sleep until the dawn. I dare 
not give them more for fear of death. And 
they are the queen^s men. Thou wilt have to 
hasten, child. With these few hours' advan- 
tage thou shouldst reach thy father in time. 
Thestormhath broken. Now thou must away." 

The storm had indeed passed. The rain 
still fell, but gently. In the west a few stars 
peeped between the rifts in the clouds. 


222 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


“ How can I ever repay thee ? whispered 
Francis embracing the dame warmly. Heaven 
bless thee, mother. Farewell ! 

“ Farewell. Fear naught. Trust to the 
guidance of thy horse and this lanthorne. 
The night is dark, but the dawn comes early. 
Ride now for thy life, girl. Farewell.^^ 


CHAPTER XXI 


AN UNLOCKED FOR RECEPTION 

The night was dark as Dame Margery had 
said. The broken clouds that flitted across the 
sky obscured the faint light of the stars that 
struggled to peep through the nebulous masses. 
At another time the superstitious spirit of the 
girl would have shrunk from the noises of the 
wood, and found omens in the hoot of the 
owl, or the moaning of the wind as it sobbed 
fitfully through the trees. But now the 
screech of the night bird and the soughing of 
the wind fell upon deaf ears for she was so 
absorbed in the one idea of getting home that 
all else was unheeded. 

In the darkness she was obliged to proceed 
slowly, trusting rather to the instinct of the 
horse than to the dim light of the lantern. 
The dripping trees saturated her garments al- 
most as thoroughly as if it were indeed rain- 
ing, but the fire of filial love was in her heart, 
and its flame rendered her impervious to 

223 


224 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

creature discomforts. At length the dawn 
came, and the sun^s bright beams soon dis- 
persed the mists of the night, his revivifying 
rays inspiring the girl with new courage. 
The horse, of his own volition, struck into a 
brisker gait, and Francis was obliged to con- 
trol her emotion as each succeeding moment 
brought her nearer the Hall. 

Just before noon the turrets of Stafford Hall 
came into view. With a cry of exultation 
she spurred her horse forward. 

“ On, on ! she cried. “ Thy journey is al- 
most done ! ” 

At full gallop she sped through the gates 
and into the base court. Her father’s horse, 
bridled and saddled, stood at the foot of the 
steps leading to the terrace. 

“ Mistress Francis,” cried Brooks, the old 
servitor who held the horse, how came you 
here?” 

My father ? ” gasped Francis as she sprang 
to the ground. 

“ In the presence chamber, mistress. He ” 

She waited to hear no more, but ran up 
the steps, through the ante-rooms, and bounded 
into the presence chamber. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 225 

Lord Stafford and his wife stood with their 
arms twined about each other, as if in the act 
of saying farewell. They started at her 
entrance, the utmost surprise upon their faces 
when they saw who the intruder was. 

“ Father ! exclaimed Francis running to 
him with outstretched arms. Father ! 

Her father did not stir to meet her, but, 
folding his arms, regarded her sternly. 

“ False girl,^’ he cried, “ why come you 
hither ? ” 

To save thee, my father.’^ Francis paused 
bewildered by his manner. “ Father, they 
accuse thee of treason. The queen’s men are 
coming to take thee to the Tower. You must 
fly.” 

“ And do you bid me fly? You who have 
betrayed me? You whom I trusted? You 
who vowed that not even the rack could ex- 
tort one syllable from your lips ? Base girl, 
is it thus that thou dost requite my love? 
Away ! Go back to that court whose entice- 
ments have caused thee to betray thy father.” 

“ I betray thee ? ” cried Francis in horror. 

Francis Stafford, betray my father? 
Never ! Never ! ” 


226 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


“ Seek not to deny it, girl. One hath been 
here from the court, I know that every in- 
cident of the journey to Chartley, even to the 
meeting with Babington at Salisbury, is 
known to the queen. Who knew all this but 
thee ? Fool that I was to confide in thee I 
But thou wert so cock-sure of thy ability ! So 
apt and froward with thy promises, that I be- 
lieved in thee.’^ 

“ My father, if there are those who say that 
I betrayed thee, they speak not the truth. I 
have come to warn thee of peril. Even now 
the pursuivants are on their way to take thee. 
Oh, sir ! tarry no longer but fiy. Tis death 
to be taken, father. Death ! 

She wrung her hands as her father stood 
there so unheedingly when time was so 
precious. 

‘‘ And if it be death, by whose hand hath it 
been wrought? Why hast thou dallied at 
court so long ? Why dost thou still wear that 
garb which shames thy modesty ? 

“ Father, hear me,^' cried Francis, flinging 
herself at his feet. If ever thou didst bear 
aught of affection to her that kneels to thee, 
believe me when I say that I betrayed thee 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 227 

not. May my tongue be palsied if I speak not 

the truth. Father, by all the saints, I ” 

“ False girl, perjure not thy soul,’^ and he 
strove to release himself from her grasp. 

Unclasp thine arms, Francis Stafford, and 

hearken to a father ^s curse. May ” 

Hold, my lord I ” shrieked Lady Stafford. 
“ Curse not thy child I Curse not thine own 
flesh and blood ! ” 

No child is she of mine, madam. Rather 
do I believe her some changeling forced upon 
us by witches^ craft. Never did Stafford be- 
tray trust before ! Stay me not ! Whether 
child or changeling yet still shall she be 
cursed.” 

“ Father, father, I am innocent of having 
done this monstrous, wicked thing I ’Twas 
Anthony Babington that hath so maliciously 

spoken about me ! I know ” 

How know you that ^twas Babington ? ” 
demanded her father quickly. “ Girl, thine 
own words condemn thee. Say no more ! I 
will listen to thy false words no longer. I 
curse the day that thou wast born. I curse 
thee ” 

Forbear,” shrieked the girl in agonized 


228 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


tones. “ O, father, withhold thy curse I 
Hear me for the love of mercy.” 

But Lord Stafford tore himself from her 
clinging hands, and hastily left the room. 

‘‘ Father,” cried Francis, darting after him. 

Father ! ” 

He heeded her not, but strode out of the 
castle to the place where old Brooks held his 
horse. 

'' Father, father ! ” The frantic girl reached 
him as he mounted his steed and held out her 
arms entreatingly. But the father answered 
never a word, and without another look at 
her gave spur to his horse, and dashed 
through the open gates of the court. 

Then a great cry of anguish broke from the 
girTs lips. A black mist rose before her eyes, 
engulfing her in its choking, smothering em- 
brace. She swayed unsteadily and fell in an 
unconscious heap upon the ground. 


CHAPTER XXII 


AS IT FELL OUT 

When consciousness returned to Francis 
Stafford she was lying on a couch in the pres- 
ence chamber with her mother bending over 
her. 

** Mother/^ she cried as a full realization of 
all that had taken place rushed over her. 

He is gone ! My father is gone, and he 
hath cursed me ! And she burst into a flood 
of tears. 

Think not on it, child,^^ said the mother, 
her own eyes streaming. “ Thou didst try 
him greatly. It was ill in thee not to return 
to us, but thou art young and full well do I 
ken the allurements that court life holds for 
youth. But this thy father could have par- 
doned had this been all.” 

My mother, art thou too against me?” 
The girl struggled to a sitting position, 
her indignation giving her strength. “ Dost 
thou believe that I betrayed my father, or 

229 


230 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

that I lingered at court from choice ? Then 
what avails it if I tell thee all ? Am I not 
thy child, and wherefore should I do so evil ? 
Would that I had died ere this had come 
upon me ! ” 

She flung herself back upon the couch and 
wept bitterly. Her mother, alarmed at the 
intensity of her grief, strove to soothe 
her. 

“ Let me make my moan, mother. If my 
father would have but listened, he would 
have known that I did not betray him ; but 
he would not. He would not ! ” 

“ Judge him not too harshly, Francis. Now 
tell me the cause of thy delay. Why thou 
didst not send us word ? Why thou didst not 
return ? ” 

“Who was there to do my bidding? I 
would not have been here even yet had I not 
heard the queen and her ministers planning 
to arrest the conspirators. So soon as I heard 
my father’s name I left the court without 
leave, and came hither with all dispatch to 
warn him.” 

“ Tell me all, Francis,” urged her mother. 
“ All that hath happened thee from the begin- 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 231 

ning. I fear me much that thy father hath 
done thee wrong/^ 

“ He hath/’ said Francis bitterly. “ Griev- 
ous wrong ! And as I live by bread, there hath 
never been aught but love toward him in my 

heart. But now Oh, my mother,” she 

cried with another outburst of woe, my heart 
is broken 1 ” 

There, child 1 weep not so much. Thy 
father will repent him of his injustice when 
he learns the truth. Dry thine eyes and tell 
all that hath befallen thee.” 

Presently, when she had become calmer, 
Francis complied with the request, and told 
her mother all that had occurred since she 
left her. 

And thy hair I Thy pretty hair 1 ” cried 
Lady Stafford weeping when Francis related 
that incident. ‘‘ Ah, child, I repent me that 
ever I consented to let thee leave me. But 
continue, I pray thee I I would know all.” 

And the girl continued her narrative to its 
close. Her mother clasped her close when she 
finished it. 

We have done thee great wrong, my 
daughter. Forgive me and thy father also. 


232 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

We should have known that thou wouldst not 
have done this thing, but when we did not 
hear, and thou didst not come, we marveled 
at it greatly. This morning Anthony Bab- 
ington came, and told us that all was known 
to the queen through thy treachery. And 
thou must be lenient toward us that we be- 
lieved him.’’ 

“ But why didst thou, mother ! Have I 
been so ill a daughter that ye must believe 
the first word against me ? I cannot forgive it.” 

“ Not now, my child, while thy hurt is re- 
cent, but later thy mother must not sue to 
thee in vain. But, Francis, come to my tiring 
room. I mislike that garb. Methinks it hath 
caused all our woe. Come, and let me see 
thee in thy proper attire once more.” 

Nay ; ” said Francis resolutely, “ from 
this time forth I wear none other. ’Twas at 
my father’s bidding that I donned it. I will 
discard it only when he calls me ^ daughter ’ 
again. Otherwise I shall go to my grave 
Francis Stafford, the page.” 

Francis, Francis,” wailed the lady, thou 
art distraught. Entertain not such purpose, 
I entreat. Soften thy proud heart, and be 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 233 

not stubborn when thy mother pleads with 
thee. For my sake, child, remove that dress.’^ 
Nay, mother ; replied she obdurately, 
** seek not to change my purpose, for it is 
fixed. This page’s dress I wear until my 
father takes me once more to his heart.” 

Thou art as unyielding and indexible as 
thy sire,” cried her mother. What can I 
do between ye ? Have thy way, thou wilful 
girl ! Naught remains for thy mother but to 
pray that the day may be hastened when all 
will be well with us again.” 

Just then there came a clattering of hoofs 
in the courtyard, and the sound of voices. 
Lady Stafford sprang to her feet in alarm. 

What is it?” she cried. Oh, child, 
what if they have taken thy father ? ” 

Tis the queen’s men,” said Francis start- 
ing up. '‘They seek my father, but they 
seek in vain. I have foiled them.” 

A sense of exultation swept over her, causing 
her to forget for the time her father’s distrust. 
She faced the men who entered the apartment 
triumphantly. 

"What seek ye?” she demanded with 
scorn. 


234 DOUBLET AND HOSE 

Thy father, boy, and thee,'^ was the reply. 
‘‘We know that thou hast warned him so that 
he hath given us the slip. But marry ! the 
game is but afoot, and we the greyhounds who 
will bring him to bay. Of him anon. Here 
is a warrant for one Francis Stafford. Art 
thou he ? ” 

“ I am,” answered the girl haughtily. 

“ Then, Francis Stafford, son of William, 
Lord Stafford, in the name of the queen, I ar- 
rest thee on a charge of high treason.” 

“ Arrest thee, Francis ? ” cried her mother 
flinging her arms about the girl. “ Oh, child, 
why thee ? ” 

“ I was with my father at Chartley, mother,” 
said Francis calmly. “If he be guilty of 
treason, why, then so am I.” 

“ But I knew not that thou wert in danger,” 
sobbed the mother. “ Oh, Francis, why didst 
thou not go with thy father ? Why didst thou 
not tell him of it ? Why, why ? ” 

“ I did not think of it,” answered Francis 
simply. “ I thought only of him.” 

“ How thou hast been misjudged,” ex- 
claimed the lady weeping bitterly. “ Oh, 
cruel, cruel fate that hath befallen thee ! ” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 235 

“ Cease thy lamentation, woman, com- 
manded the officer sternly. Make ready to 
accompany thy son to London. 

My mother ! exclaimed Francis and her 
mother in one breath. 

Thou. Thou canst no longer remain here, 
because this Hall and its estate are forfeited 
to the crown by the treason of its owner. Tis 
the queen’s command that thou dost go with 
thy son to London there to be immured in 
the Tower. Make ready, madam. Ye two 
must this hour to the queen.” 

But what crime have I committed ? ” 
asked the poor lady in dismay. 

I know not, madam. ’Tis the queen’s 
command,” was the reply. 

’Tis the worst of all crimes, my mother,” 
said Francis with irony. Thou art too fair. 
’Tis a fault unforgivable by Elizabeth.” 

“ Hush, child,” whispered the lady quickly. 

Make our sad plight no worse by thy railing.” 

Stay, boy ! ” cried Wainwright as Francis 
started to leave the apartment with her 
mother. Remain where thou art. I would 
have speech with thee.” 


236 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

Wonderingly, the girl paused, and Master 
Wainwright, making a peremptory motion to 
Lady Stafford to leave them, continued : 

“ Thou art too elusive to be out of my sight, 
young sir. Now answer these queries. Wert 
thou in the dwelling of old Margery when we 
entered it ? 

Marry ! what is it to thee where I was,^^ 
answered Francis, desiring not to get the dame 
into trouble. 

“ Be not too pert, sir page. I wrung from 
the old woman that thou wert, after I found 
that we overslept. Now, boy, was it due to 
thee or to the witch that we slept so long ? 

To me, master,” replied the girl boldly. 

Upon my shoulders cast all blame. Impute 
nothing to the old woman. I did all, for I 
knew that I must distance thee to warn my 
father. And thou wert outstripped ! Thou 
wert close after the game but he took to soil, 
and the track is lost, good master.” 

Crow on, my bantam,” cried Wainwright 
angrily. Thou wilt sing another tune when 
Sir Francis Walsingham hath thee. And 
mark me, sirrah ! The track will be regained, 
and the game brought to cover ere thou dost 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 237 

reach the Tower. Then upon Tower Hill thou 
canst behold its breaking up.^^ 

Francis turned pale as death at this refer- 
ence to what would be her father's fate if 
taken. 

“ Ah, that hipped thee, young cock ! Dost 
ken what happens to traitors ? 'Twill be thy 
fate as well as thy father's. Dream on't, 
master ! Now must you and your mother 
take horse for London." 

To-day ? " said Francis faintly, a sense of 
weakness coming over her. “ Oh, sir, not to- 
day, beseech you. I have ridden so much. 
I am so tired ! " 

“ This day shalt thou start," said Wain- 
wright rejoicing with all the might of a small 
man in the power over another. No plead- 
ing will avail thee. Thou must go ! " 

As you will then," answered Francis 
wearily, though every muscle in her tired 
body rebelled at this further tax upon her 
strength. 

And so the long, weary journey to London 
was again begun. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


IN THE TOWER OF LONDON 

It was a dreary journey. The motive which 
had sustained the girl in her former trip from 
the city to her home was lacking. The fa- 
tigue incident to travel, the unjust reception 
of her by her father, with the doubtfulness 
of his escape, and the uncertainty of what 
was to become of her mother and herself, now 
bore upon her with such overwhelming force 
as to almost crush even her brave spirit. 
Lady Stafford suffered a like mental anguish, 
and so, on account of the weakness of the two 
prisoners, the guard was compelled to return 
to the city by slow stages. 

Upon their entrance within the gates they 
found that the whole city was in an uproar, 
caused by the apprehension of Anthony Bab- 
ington and several others of the conspirators. 
Bells were ringing, bonfires burning and the 
most vehement satisfaction expressed by the 
people, who, with shouts and singing of 

238 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 239 

psalms, gave every demonstration of joy at the 
escape of the queen from their treasonable de- 
signs. 

When it became known that these two were 
also implicated, a hooting, jeering mob fol- 
lowed them through the streets, hurling vile 
epithets upon them, and taunting them with 
their disgrace. Lady Stafford drooped under 
the attack, but the assault roused the spirit in 
Francis, and she sat erect, her flashing eyes 
and contemptuous looks bespeaking the tem- 
pest that raged in her heart. 

Bear up, my mother,’^ she said to Lady 
Stafford who could scarcely sit her horse. 

Give not the rabble cause to laugh and jibe.” 

But, my child, that we of the house of 
Stafford, be thus dishonored ! ” exclaimed the 
lady in anguish. Oh, I cannot bear it ! I 
cannot bear it ! Carest thou not for this dis- 
grace? ” 

I could weep my heart out, if it would 
avail aught,” uttered Francis in low, intense 
tones. Bethink you, mother, that this mob 
of the streets shall see one tear from me? 
Nay ; ^twould give them too much of pleasure.” 

“ And has it come to this ? That thou 


240 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

shouldst be an example to thy mother?” 
asked the lady sitting up. “ Let them rage ! 
Not another tear shall they behold. There 
will be time enough for tears later.” 

And so saying she followed her daughter’s 
example and rode with uplifted head, appar- 
ently indifferent to the taunts of the people 
who followed them down to the waterside, 
even to the wharf where they embarked for 
the Tower. 

Babington and his companions occupied 
another boat which preceded them down the 
river, and Francis felt relief when she saw 
that her father was not among them. The 
tide being in their favor, the boat passed 
swiftly down the river, shot London Bridge, 
and all too soon drew near the sombre mass 
of the Tower. 

In spite of her undaunted front Francis 
could not forbear a shudder as their wherry 
drew near Saint Thomas’ tower. As a mere 
matter of form the boats were challenged by 
the sentinels. A wicket, composed of immense 
beams of wood, was opened and they shot be- 
neath the gloomy arch, through the Traitors^ 
gate. A feeling of dread took possession of 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 241 

the girl as her gaze fell upon the slimy walls 
of the dismal arch. The wherrymen ceased 
rowing and the water rippled sullenly against 
the sides of the boat which soon, impelled by 
the former efforts of the oarsmen, touched the 
steps. 

The lieutenant of the Tower, followed by 
numerous warders, appeared and gave ac- 
knowledgment of their receipt to the guard. 
Slowly the prisoners ascended the damp and 
slippery steps, Francis and her mother be- 
ing the last to go up. A few quick com- 
mands and Babington and the others were 
hurried away, each man between two war- 
ders. Then the lieutenant turned to Lady 
Stafford. 

Follow me, madam,’’ he said making a 
respectful salutation. I will conduct you to 
your chamber, where, I pra}^’ your pardon, my 
orders are to place you under some restraint. 
You, young master, will remain here until my 
return. The time will be but short.” 

Oh,” cried the lady in supplicating tones, 
“ are we to be separated ? ” 

“ Such are my commands, madam,” returned 
he in tones of commiseration. Thou art to 


242 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

be confined in the Brick Tower. Thy son in 
the Beauchamp Tower. Come ! 

“ Oh, my child ! my child ! sobbed the 
mother throwing her arms about Francis. 

What will be thy fate? What will they do 
to thee? ’’ 

“ Calm thyself, my mother,’^ comforted 
Francis. “We can but hope. Mayhap the 
good keeper will permit us to see each other 
occasionally. Go now, mother. We must 
not vex him.” 

Clasping her convulsively to her breast for 
a moment. Lady Stafford released her, and 
then followed the lieutenant, weeping bitterly. 

Then Francis sat her down in the midst of 
the warders upon that very stone where Eliza- 
beth had rested when she herself passed into 
the Tower, a prisoner to the jealousy of her sis- 
ter, Mary. Soon the lieutenant returned and 
said courteously : 

“ And now, master, be pleased to follow me 
to your chamber.” 

Francis arose and followed him without a 
word. Through the outer ward they passed 
through the lofty portal which formed the 
principal entrance to the inner ward over 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 243 

which rose a dismal-looking structure, then 
called the Garden Tower, but later known as 
the Bloody Tower. Passing beneath these 
grim portals the lieutenant led his prisoner 
into the inner ward, over the Tower Green, 
and at last paused before an embattled struc- 
ture of the time of King John, just opposite the 
great keep, or the White Tower. Ascending 
the circular stairway, he unlocked the double 
doors that led into the tower, and they 
passed into a large, low-roofed dark apartment 
that held a very scanty array of furniture. 
Then he withdrew, the bolt clasped, the chain 
clanged, and Francis was left alone. 

A sense of desolation swept over the girl 
as the full realization of the situation burst 
upon her, and the blackness of despair filled 
her soul with anguish. She was alone. She 
had no one to lean upon. No ear to which 
she could impart her sorrows. Her mother a 
prisoner like herself. Her father — a fugitive 
wandering she knew not whither. As the 
bitterness of her lot assailed her in all its 
force she could no longer control herself but 
gave way to a passionate burst of grief. She 
looked at the stone walls by which she was 


244 DOUBLET AND HOSE 

enclosed, the massive iron-girded door and 
the hopelessness of her situation bore with 
crushing weight upon her. 

There was no eye to see, no longer need 
for control, and she gave vent to her de- 
spair unrestrainedly. At length the foun- 
tain of her tears was dry, and becoming 
more composed she sought to regain her 
fortitude. 

I have done no wrong,^^ she said aloud. 
“No wrong ? Was it wrong to give those 
letters to Mary? But my father bade me. 
My father I Ah, no word of that must pass 
my lips. Cruel and unjust he hath been, but 
never shall word or act of mine bear witness 
against him. I must fortify my soul for I fear 
that I will be questioned.” 

Her foreboding proved true. Early the 
next morning the door leading into the cham- 
ber was opened, and Sir Francis Walsingham 
with two others entered. Francis^ heart sank 
at sight of them, but she nerved herself for 
the ordeal. 

“ Good-morrow, Master Stafford,” said the 
secretary courteously, “ We give you good- 
morrow.” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 245 

“ Good-morrow, Sir Francis. And to you, 
gentlemen, good-morrow,” returned she. 

My lad,” said Walsingham not unkindly, 
seating himself before her, thou art charged 
with a heinous crime, and methinks that thou 
art too young to be concerned in such weighty 
matters. Therefore, am I with these lords, 
come to examine thee somewhat anent it.” 

“With what am I charged, sir?” asked 
Francis. 

“ With that most atrocious of all crimes, — 
treason,” was the reply. 

“ My lord, I meant not to be guilty of trea- 
son against the queen,” said the girl earnestly. 
“ If aught that I have done seemeth so in her 
eyes, believe me I pray you, when I say that it 
was not so intended.” 

“ I do believe it,” answered the secretary. 
“ I think that thou hast been made use of by 
others to further design of bold and unscrupu- 
lous men. Didst thou ever meet with An- 
thony Babington ? ” 

“ Yes, Sir Francis.” 

“ Where ? ” 

“ Once at Salisbury, and once in the forest 
as I left London.” 


246 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

What passed at those meetings ? Wal- 
singham drew closer, expecting from the girl's 
demeanor to find ready answers to his in- 
quiries. 

“ I cannot tell you, sir, of the nature of the 
first," answered Francis. I will gladly do 
so of the second." 

“ Relate it then." 

He was trying to make his escape when 
his design upon the queen became known. 
He sprang upon me when I was unaware, 
seized the bridle of my horse, and demanded 
that I give the animal to him." 

“ Which you refused? " 

Which I refused to do, sir." 

Did he recognize you ? " 

Yes." 

And you him ? " 

Yes, Sir Francis." 

Did you know that he was trying to es- 
cape from arrest ? " 

Yes ; " answered Francis again. 

Then why did you not let him have the 
horse?" queried Walsingham. 

“ Because I wished to reach my father," re- 
plied the girl simply. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 247 

But why did you want to reach your 
father?'’ and the secretary bent forward. 
“ How knew you that he was in danger? ” 

“ Why, I heard you tell the queen that you 
were going to arrest him, and I wished to 
warn him." 

“ Thou heardst me tell the queen ? " cried 
the minister in surprise. “ Boy, how couldst 
thou ? We were in the queen's own chamber. 
How couldst thou hear it ? " 

I went there to seek a favor from Her 
Majesty, and awaited her coming upon the 
balcony outside the window. When the 
queen entered, the vice-chamberlain, Lord 
Burleigh, my Lord of Leicester, and yourself 
were with her. I feared then to come into 
the room. Thus I could but hear all that 
passed. When I found that my father was in 
danger I left the balcony and the palace as 
quickly, determined to warn him of his 
peril." 

Then you knew that he was concerned in 
the plot to kill the queen ? " and Walsingham 
eyed her keenly. 

He was not," cried the girl eagerly. 

Then why should he flee ? " asked the 


248 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


merciless inquisitor. “No peer of the realm 
hath aught to fear if he be innocent of foul 
design. 

Francis was so disconcerted by this question 
that she did not attempt to reply, but looked 
at him hopelessly. 

The wily minister saw her confusion and 
pressed his advantage. 

“ Thou needest not to answer, boy, on the 
condition that thou tell to me all that passed 
the first time that you saw Babington.” 

“ I cannot do that, sir.” 

“ Twill be the better for thee,” warned the 
secretary. “ We have knowledge that thou 
and thy father did meet with Babington at 
an inn in Salisbury. For thine own sake, 
thou wouldst best reveal what took place. 
Reflect ! Thine own safety depends upon it.” 

“ I will not tell. Sir Francis,” returned 
Francis bravely. 

“ Have a care, boy. There are ways of ex- 
torting confessions from unwilling lips.” 

“ I do not misunderstand your meaning,” 
returned the girl with white lips, “ but I can- 
not tell.” 

“ What did your father when the proposi- 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 249 

tion was made to kill the queen?” asked 
Walsingham so suddenly that Francis was 
caught unawares. 

He would have naught to do with it,” 
answered she promptly, glad to speak in his 
favor. “ He rejected it with horror.” 

Ah, ha ! he did know of it ! ” ejaculated 
the secretary. Thou hast betrayed thyself. 
Come ! Let us have the full particulars.” 

Sir,” said Francis, perceiving the snare 
into which she had fallen, I am unable to 
meet your craft with like guile. Therefore 
question me no further. I will say no more.” 

And despite all attempts to trip her into 
answering, she maintained an obstinate silence 
with regard to all their questions. 

Let us leave him,” said Walsingham at 
length. Obdurate lad, thou wilt regret thy 
stubbornness ere long. There are other means 
of dealing with such spirits than gentleness. 
We will return ere long, and if thou art still of 
the same mind, thou shalt taste them.” And 
he withdrew, leaving Francis to face this new 
trial. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


A FRIEND IN NEED 

It was with much apprehension that Fran- 
cis awaited the return of the secretary. Stories 
that she had heard regarding the tortures in- 
flicted upon prisoners in the Tower came to 
her mind with such vividness and force as to 
cause her soul to sicken with fear. 

“ I must not think on them,” she said, try- 
ing to drive this terror from her mind. For 
diversion she arose and examined the inscrip- 
tions in the room. How many there have 
been before me ! ” she mused gazing at the 
coats of arms and other devices with which 
the walls were covered. What melancholy 
memorials of illustrious and unfortunate peo- 
ple ! Here is the name of the Earl of Arun- 
del.” 

She looked long and earnestly at the auto- 
graph of that unhappy nobleman, Phillip 
Howard, Earl of Arundel, who was beheaded 
for aspiring to the hand of Mary Stuart. 

250 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 251 

This name was written boldly over the fire- 
place, and the girl turned from it with a sigh 
as the thought occurred to her that all who 
were connected in any manner with that ill- 
starred princess must meet with some unto- 
ward fate. 

She passed with a shudder from the next 
inscription bearing the recent date of 1582, 
which read : 

“ Thomas Miagh which liethe here alone 
That fain wold from hence begone 
By torture straunge my trouth was tryed 
Yet of my liberty denied ; ” 

for that torture straunge suggested 
thoughts of too painful a nature to dwell 
upon. The next bore the date, Anno D. 
1571, 10 Sept., and read : 

The most unhappy man in the world is 
he that is not patient in adversities ; for men 
are not killed with the adversities they have, 
but with the impatience they suffer. 

And so she went from one to another, mar- 
veling at the resignation, patience and en- 
durance breathed by many of the inscriptions, 
and shuddering at the thought of those 


252 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

straunge tortures which were hinted at by 
others. 

Three days elapsed. On the morning of 
the fourth day, as Francis sat listlessly await- 
ing the coming of her jailer with her noon- 
day meal, which was the only diversion that 
her prison life afforded, the door opened to ad- 
mit, not her keeper, but Sir Francis Walsing- 
ham and two warders. Every particle of 
color left her face at sight of him, and she 
uttered a silent prayer for help as she arose in 
response to his greeting. 

“ Well, young master, I hope that I find 
you in a more amiable frame of mind to- 
day?’^ half questioned, half asserted the sec- 
retary. 

“ Sir,^^ replied she, “ I am of the same 
opinion as heretofore. I confess that if to 
carry letters to Mary, Queen of Scots, be 
treason, then am I guilty of rebellion against 
thequeen^s highness. Therefore, adjudge me 
guilty, and give me, I beseech you, a speedy 
death. But, if the word of one who stands 
in peril of life may be taken, I solemnly de- 
clare that my father is innocent of all design 
of harming the Queen of England.” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 253 

That declaration, boy, will not save him,^’ 
replied Walsingham sternly. By not re- 
vealing the conspiracy, if he knew of it, he 
acquiesced in it. His first duty was to his 
sovereign. I now ask you for the last time 
with gentleness, in the name of the queen, 
did he know of it ? 

Francis remained silent. 

’Tis enough,’^ said the minister sternly. 

Tis the law that he who refuses to answer a 
query put in the queen’s name, may be ques- 
tioned in a far sharper manner. Bring him 
along, wardens.” 

“ There is no need,” said Francis with dig- 
nity as the two advanced toward her. I 
will attend without force.” 

The wardens bowed and opening the door 
of the chamber, ushered her into the corridor. 
Traversing this for a short distance they came 
to a flight of steps which they descended. 
Here they were confronted by a strong door 
which one of the men opened. It admitted 
them to a dark, narrow passage of considerable 
extent so far as could be discerned. After 
pursuing a direct course for some time they 
came to an opening on the left, into which 


254 DOUBLET AND HOSE 

they struck. This hall was so ..narrow that 
they were obliged to walk singly. The roof 
was clustered with nitrous drops and the floor 
was slippery with moisture. 

Francis did not know what part of the 
Tower she was in but she had heard that the 
whole substructure of the fortress was 
threaded with subterranean passages which 
led to different parts of the edifice. This par- 
ticular one was contrived in the thickness of 
the ballium wall which led from Beauchamp 
Tower to Develin Tower. On either side of the 
corridor was a range of low, strong doors which 
gave entrance to dungeons, and horrible 
thoughts of what the inmates of these 
noisome cells must endure flashed across the 
girTs mind, rendering her faint and sick. 

At the end of the passage was an open door 
leading to a small circular chamber which the 
four entered and the door was closed. Francis 
gave one quick glance around her and her 
senses reeled for the room was one of the tor- 
ture chambers of the Tower. 

On the ground was a large brazier beside 
which lay an immense pair of pincers. In 
one corner stood a great oaken frame about 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 255 

three feet high moved by rollers. This was 
the rack. Upon the wall hung a broad hoop 
of iron opening in the centre with a hinge — 
a dreadful instrument of torture called the 
Scavenger’s daughter. The walls and floor 
were covered with gauntlets, saws and other 
implements of torture, but the rack caught 
and held her eyes with terrible fascination. 

Walsingham seated himself at a small table 
upon which were writing materials, and turn- 
ing to Francis said earnestly, 

“Gaze about thee, boy, and reflect upon 
what thou seest. There is yet time to tell all 
that thou knowest. Think well ere thou dost 
doom thy tender limbs to the rack.” 

The perspiration started forth in great drops 
upon the girl’s forehead. Her trembling lips 
could scarcely frame her utterance as she 
answered : 

“ Do to me as ye list. Sir Francis. I will 
not speak further concerning my father.” 

With an exclamation of impatience the sec- 
retary made a sign. From behind a stone 
pillar there stepped forth a man at whose ap- 
pearance Francis could not forbear a scream. 
He was tall and very attenuated, clothed 


256 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE ‘ 

wholly in black. His face thin and sinister 
was of a pale sickly color while his eyes, black 
and glittering, held the gaze with a basilisk 
glare. He was the sworn tormentor of the 
Tower. 

Francis shrieked at sight of him, striving in 
vain to control her terror. Just as the tor- 
turer reached her side the door was flung open 
and a warder, accompanied by Lord Shrope, 
burst into the room. 

“ Sir Francis, Sir Francis,^’ cried Lord 
Shrope in agitated accents, for the love of 
mercy, forbear I 

My lord,” cried Walsingham starting up, 
what means this intrusion? ” 

It means, sir, that for thy honor’s sake, 
for the love which thou bearest thine own fair 
daughter, I implore you to desist. Wouldst 
thou subject a maiden to the rack ? ” 

“ A what, my lord ? ” cried the secretary 
aghast. 

“ A maiden,” repeated Lord Shrope. “ Fran- 
cis Stafford is not the son but the daughter of 
Lord Stafford.” 

Then, in the name of St. George, why this 
disguise ? ” asked the secretary. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 257 

“ Tell him, child, commanded the noble- 
man, but Francis clung to him convulsively, 
unable to speak. Seeing her condition. Lord 
Shrope related the matter hurriedly, conclud- 
ing with : 

“ I knew that you knew not her sex, Wal- 
singham, so I sought you to inform you anent 
it. Learning that you had come here, and 
fearing that this step would be taken, for well 
do I ken the stubbornness of the girl where 
her father is concerned, I hastened hither.^’ 

But, my lord, if this act be foregone how 
shall we proceed ? Thou knowest well all 
evidence that can be obtained anent every one 
implicated with that ^ bosom serpent, Mary,^ 
should be gotten wil or nil.” 

My Lord of Burleigh is seeking you,” 
said Lord Shrope. “ He reporteth that Bab- 
ington hath made full confession, and hath 
thrown himself upon the mercy of the 
queen.” 

Say you so ? ” Walsingham started for the 
door, and then paused. Thy services will 
not be needed to-day,” he said to the tor- 
mentor. As for thee,” turning to Francis, 
thy sex protects thee from torture, but in 


258 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

sooth I wonder that one so young should be 
so staunch.’^ 

“ Wouldst thou have a daughter speak 
aught that would go against her father?’’ 
asked Francis finding her voice at last. 
“ Nay ; ’twas cruel to expect it even though I 
were in truth my father’s son.” 

“Yet still it hath been done,” answered the 
secretary. 

“ Perchance thou wilt be more fortunate 
than I in informing Her Majesty of the 
matter,” suggested Lord Shrope. “ Thou hast 
her ear.” 

“ True, my lord ; yet what would it avail? 
The queen is not disposed to be lenient now 
since the design upon her life was so nearly 
successful. She would grant the maiden 
proper attire, I trow, but no more.” 

“ I do not wish other garb than this,” inter- 
posed the girl. “ None shall give it me 
save my father.” 

“ Then must the matter drop,” said Wal- 
singham. “ Damsel, I will speak to the lieu- 
tenant of the Tower, and thou shalt have other 
lodgings but more clemency thou must not 
expect.” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 259 

I crave none, sir,” answered Francis. 

My lord, will you come with me, or go 
with the girl ? ” queried the secretary. 

“ With you. Sir Francis. I dare not stay,” 
whispered Lord Shrope. Later, if I may, I 
will see thee, child. It would not do now.” 

And with a friendly pressure of her hands 
he followed after the minister while Francis 
was conducted back to her prison. 


CHAPTER XXV 


A GREAT SORROW BEFALLS FRANCIS 

And now began a weary time for Francis 
Stafford. Some hope had crept into her heart 
after she had seen Lord Shrope, but as the 
days went by and she heard nothing from him 
she felt once more friendless and hopeless. 

At first her jailer would have nothing to 
say to her and brought her food and drink, 
maintaining the strictest silence. As the girl 
became pale and worn from her confinement 
he softened visibly. So much so that Francis 
began anew her pleadings with him to give 
her some tidings of her mother. 

It is forbid to talk much with prisoners,” 
said the man gruffly, yet not unkindly, but 
I see no harm in telling thee that thy mother 
hath been moved nearer to thee.” 

Nearer?” cried Francis joyfully. Oh, 
good warder, pray you, where? ” 

She hath been taken to the Bell Tower 
which lieth directly south of this tower,” 
answered the keeper. 

260 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 261 


“ So near ? ” murmured Francis. “ That is 
welcome tidings, good jailer. Prithee tell 
me but one thing more. How bears she the 
confinement? 

Nay, master ; that I cannot answer. I am 
not her keeper, and therefore know naught of 
her condition.’’ This he said compassionately 
for it was known to the warder and other 
officials of the Tower that Lady Stafford was 
failing fast under her imprisonment which 
was the reason of her removal to other quar- 
ters. 

Not being aware of this fact Francis felt 
happier at the near proximity of her mother, 
and applied herself earnestly to the books 
which the jailer had brought at her solicitation. 

How Hugh Greville would rejoice could 
he but know what pleasure these give me,” 
she murmured one day looking up from the 
volume she held in her hand. And truly I 
never knew before the delights to be found in 
learning. If I continue I may become as 

learned as Lady Jane Marry! was she 

not confined in this very room ? ” 

Rising hastily she went to the wall that lay 
between the two recesses upon the left-hand 


262 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


side of the chamber and looked at the name 
carved there : Iane. 

“ Whom could it mean but that unhappy 
lady/^ she mused. “ Perchance it is her spirit 
that haunts this gloomy abode and inspires 
me to studious thoughts. It must be that she 
too was immured in this room. If my grim 
keeper prove amiable I will ask him.’^ 

But the keeper soon deprived her of this 
comfort, small though it was. 

“ Nay ; ” he said in answer to her inquiry. 

The Lady Jane was not kept here. That was 
written by either her husband or one of his 
brothers who were imprisoned in this place. 
Know you not that only male prisoners are 
incarcerated in the Beauchamp Tower ? Look 
about at those inscriptions, and thou wilt see 
that none of them belong to women — save and 
except that one.’’ 

True ; ” said Francis meditatively. “ I 
had not observed that.” 

She relapsed into thought and the keeper 
withdrew. Francis cared no more for the 
signature. It had been something of a solace 
to think that she was occupying the same 
room as that used by the hapless Jane; so 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 263 

small a thing does it take to comfort one in 
such circumstances. 

I’ll carve my own name,” she resolved 
suddenly. ‘‘ And then there will be one 
woman amongst them.” 

Taking her dagger from her belt, for that had 
been left to her, she began to cut her name as 
best she could upon the stone. It was an 
interesting occupation, and she was amazed to 
find how quickly the time sped while she was 
so engaged. The keeper smiled when he 
found her so intent upon her self-imposed task 
that she did not heed his entrance. 

They all do it,” he remarked grimly. 
“ Albeit thou hast waited longer than some. 
But eat, my master. There will be time and 
to spare for finishing.” 

“ You speak truly,” assented the girl almost 
cheerfully for the mere distraction of her 
thoughts served to raise her spirits. Truly ; 
and for that cause I will teach my hand to 
move more slowly so that it will take a long, 
long time. And I trow it will for the stone is 
very hard.” 

But despite her best efforts the name grew 
all too quickly, and, as many another had 


264 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

done before her, she grieved when her toil was 
ended. 


Fkancis Stafford, 

1586 

was the inscription which she had carved be- 
low that of Iane. a feeling of deep depres- 
sion now took possession of her that even her 
books failed to dispel. 

If I could but see my mother,^^ she said 
pleadingly to the jailor. “ Do you not think, 
good sir, that I might? Let me speak to 
the lieutenant. Surely he will not refuse 
me ! ” 

Thou mayst see her soon,’^ said the jailor 
with such a note of kindness in his voice that 
she looked up startled. “ Meseems there is 
some talk of permitting it.’’ 

Is there aught amiss ? ” asked she trem- 
blingly. 

“ Nay ; why should there be? ” queried the 
keeper evasively. “ This day perished more 
of the conspirators against the queen. Making 
fourteen in all.” 

^‘Was my father among them?” Francis 
gasped rather than asked the question. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 265 

No, boy ; he hath not been apprehended, 
and it is thought that he hath escaped into 
France.’^ 

‘‘ Oh, if it be in truth so. I care not then for 
aught else,^^ murmured Francis. 

Then rest in peace ; for of a certainty he 
hath not been taken, and thou wilt have dire 
need for all thy fortitude,^' and with these 
mysterious words he hastily quitted the room. 

^‘What meant he?” asked Francis appre- 
hensively. What could he mean ? What 
could befall me now ? Perchance he meant 
that life would be demanded next. But no ; 
the veriest wretch hath time given for prep- 
aration. Then why not I ? ” 

She paced the floor restlessly unable to rid 
herself of the misgivings that were creeping 
over her. It was customary for the warder to 
lock her within one of the small cells that 
adjoined the larger chamber for greater security 
at night, but as the usual time passed and he 
did not come her uneasiness increased. 

At last the key grated in the lock, and the 
door swung open to admit the lieutenant of 
the Tower and a warder. 

Be not alarmed, master,” said the lieuten- 


266 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


ant courteously. We are come to take thee 
to thy mother. 

“ What hath happened ? Why come you 
at night to take me to her?’^ demanded 
Francis. 

Be brave, and I will tell thee. Thy mother 
hath not been well for some time and is fail- 
ing fast. We fear that she will not live much 
longer. For that cause, and because it is her 
desire, are we taking thee to her. Nay ; there 
is no time for lamentation now, boy. Bear 
thyself like a man.^^ 

For a moment Francis leaned on him heav- 
ily almost stunned by the information. 

Courage, lad. Far better death than the 
slow lingering of years in these grim walls. 
Many have entered here younger and fairer 
than she, and endured worse than death in a 
lifetime imprisonment. Grieve not, but the 
rather rejoice that she will be freed from sor- 
row.^^ 

Peace ! ” cried Francis, her soul full of bit- 
terness. Peace ! and lead me to my mother.^’ 

The lieutenant, without further speech, led 
the way across the Tower Green to the south- 
western angle of the inner ballium where his 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 267 

own lodgings adjoined the Bell Tower. Kept 
a close prisoner for more than two months, at 
another time Francis would have been over- 
powered with joy at finding herself once more 
in the open air. But now the breeze fanned 
her cheeks unnoticed. She followed after the 
warder, who lighted the way with a torch, see- 
ing and heeding nothing. 

The short distance was soon traversed. En- 
tering the lieutenant’s lodgings they passed 
into a long gallery leading in a westerly direc- 
tion and were soon in the upper chamber of 
the Bell Tower. This was the room occupied 
by Elizabeth at the time of her incarceration 
during her sister Mary’s reign. That it had 
been the abode of royalty was the last thought 
that occurred to Francis Stafford. It held but 
one thing for her, which was the emaciated 
form of her mother who lay upon the 
bed. 

With an exclamation of joy Lady Stafford 
tried to hold out her hands to her daughter, 
but dropped them weakly on her breast. Too 
moved to speak Francis could only clasp her 
close as if she could never let her go. 

My daughter ! My daughter ! ” murmured 


268 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


the mother feebly. “ At last I have thee, hold 
thee again ! 

My mother ! ’’ uttered the girl brokenly. 
“ My mother ! ” 

“Does she wander?” whispered the lieu- 
tenant to the physician. “ Didst thou hear 
her say ‘ daughter ’ ? ” 

“ Yea ; but her mind is clear. She is weak 
but not distraught.” And the physician 
looked at the dying woman earnestly. 

“ Will she last long? ” queried Sir Michael, 
the lieutenant, and the physician answered 
slowly : 

“ Nay ; her life may go out at any moment.” 

As in a dream Francis heard both questions 
and answers, but did not comprehend their 
import. Presently her mother spoke : 

“ Francis, I am dying.” 

“ Nay ; ” broke from the girl passionately. 
“Not now, mother. Not when we have just 
found each other again. You must not, shall 
not die.” 

“ Hush, child ! We must not spend the 
time in woe. I want you to promise me that 
never again will you be connected with plot 
against the queen. Promise me.” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 269 

“ She hath killed thee/’ burst from Francis 
wildly. “ Killed thee, my mother, and driven 
my father forth a fugitive. Oh, I hate her ! 
I hate her ! ” 

Hush, oh hush ! ” wailed the mother, a 
look of fear crossing her face as the lieutenant 
and the physician started forward at the girl’s 
words. ‘‘ Good masters, heed her not. She is 
distraught with grief. I — Francis ” 

She threw out her arms and strove to clasp 
her daughter, but they fell to her side. A 
swift pallor spread over her face, a gasping, 
choking sound rattled noisily, and she was 
dead. For a moment the girl seemed dazed 
by what had happened, and then she threw 
herself upon her mother with a wild shriek. 

Mother, mother, speak to me ! ” 

Thy mother is dead,” said the physician 
trying to draw her away. 

Touch me not,” she cried in frenzied ac- 
cents turning upon him so fiercely that invol- 
untarily he recoiled. “ Minion I leave me. 
Leave me with my mother.” 

'' That may not be, my child,” said the 
physician gently noting the wild light of her 
eyes. That may not be. The queen ” 


270 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

The queen ? cried the girl shrilly. 
'' Yes ; the queen ! England’s great queen ! 
Oh, she is truly great ! ’Tis a crime to be 
fairer than the queen ! Ha, ha ! a great 
queen ! Truly a great queen ! ” 

Girl or boy, whiche’er you be, cease such 
words,” commanded the lieutenant sternly. 
“ Thou utterest treason.” 

“ Treason ? Ay, sir, treason ! Treason for 
thee, but not for me. I claim no queen but 

Mary of Scotland. I ” 

Mary of Scotland hath been condemned to 
death. She will be executed as soon as Eliza- 
beth signs the death warrant.” 

“To die?” shrieked the girl. “Mary to 
die ! If Mary must die, then shall Elizabeth 
also. Nay ; stay me not ! I go to kill the 
queen I ” 

She drew her poniard and made a dash for 
the door ; but the lieutenant caught her ere 
she reached it. 

“ Unhand me, varlet,” she panted. “Ye 
shall not stay me from my purpose.” 

“ Girl, do you utter such words in the pres- 
ence of the dead ? Look on thy mother and 
say if still thou dost hold to thy design ? ” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 271 

He turned her forcibly toward her mother’s 
form on the couch. Francis pressed a hand to 
her brow as though bewildered, and then as if 
drawn by that still calm face drew closer, and 
gazed steadfastly upon it. The sweet serene- 
ness of the dead calmed her. Presently a sob 
convulsed her frame, and flinging herself 
upon the body she burst into a passion of 
weeping. 

“ Let her weep,” observed the physician. 

’Tis all that hath kept her from becoming 
completely distraught.” 

I will send a woman to her,” said the 
lieutenant. “The girl, if so she be, and no 
boy would rave so, hath been too long alone. 
We are but rude nurses for such sorrow. 
Truly it grieves me that one so young should 
meet with so much of misery.” 

And he left the apartment. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


A FELLOW PRISONER 

A MERCIFUL illness prostrated Francis for 
many weeks, and when at length she crept 
slowly toward health, the winter had passed 
and spring was abroad in the land. Her con- 
valescence was tedious, owing to a settled mel- 
ancholy utterly unlike her usual buoyant dis- 
position, which had taken possession of her. 
Upon one point only did a gleam of her native 
spirit flash forth. This was when Mrs. Shel- 
ton, the wife of one of the keepers, brought 
her the apparel suitable to her sex. 

Nay ; vex me not with them, good mis- 
tress,’^ exclaimed Francis. ’Twas by my 
father’s command that I donned this attire, 
and, by my faith, I will exchange it for no 
other until he bids me.” 

That may be never. Mistress Stafford,” re- 
torted the woman impatiently. Thou mayst 
never see him again.” 

Then will I wear it to my grave,” was 

272 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 273 

Francis^ answer. “ I am fixed in this resolve, 
Mistress Shelton, and naught can turn me 
from it.’^ 

As ye please then,” quoth the dame. Full 
surely thou art as stubborn a lady as it hath 
ever been my hap to see. But if ye will not, 
ye will not ; ” and she took the garments away. 

Francis now occupied her mother’s apart- 
ment in the Bell Tower, and because of this 
fact found a curious contentment in it. 

“ It may be that her spirit lingers here loth 
to leave me alone,” she thought, and she took 
to watching for a sign that such was the case. 

She was roused from this dangerous train 
of thought by Mrs. Shelton appearing before 
her one day with a basket of figs. The girl 
uttered an exclamation of delight at sight of 
them, so small a thing does it take to arouse 
interest sometimes. 

For me ? ” she cried. “ Whence came they ? 
Who could have sent them ? ” 

Ask me not, mistress. I know naught of 
them save that they came from without the 
gates of the Tower. Sir Michael searched the 
basket, and as there was nothing but the fruit, 
he let it pass.” 


274 DOUBLET AND HOSE 

“ Who could have sent them ? murmured 
Francis, again in ecstasy. It was so sweet not 
to be forgotten. To know that some one still 
remembered her. Could it be my father ? 
Nay ; he would not dare. Lord Shrope ? Yea ; 
it must have been he. Good, kind friend that 
he is ! 

From this time forward her recovery was 
rapid. And when the following month brought 
a bouquet of sweet smelling flowers, the third, 
a basket of cherries, her joy knew no bounds. 
Thereafter no month went by without some 
token reaching her from that unknown person 
who seemed so full of sweet remembrance of 
her. 

“ Now blessings be upon his head who hath 
so much of thought for me,^^ she exclaimed 
rapturously as a guitar took the place of fruit 
or flowers. No more shall I be lonely with 
such companion.’’ 

And so with books, guitar, and an occasional 
walk in the gardens of the lieutenant where 
she went to take the air, Francis passed her 
time not unhappily. She was upheld by the 
thought that she was not forgotten. Thus 
summer passed into fall ; fall into winter, and 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 275 

winter in turn gave way to spring, to that 
memorable spring of 1588 when all England 
was stirred by the rumor of the threatened 
invasion of Spain. At this time the gifts to 
Francis ceased, and such an important part of 
her existence had they become that their stop- 
page grieved her more than the threats of the 
invasion. 

Books and music lost interest, and she took 
to watching the comings and goings of pris- 
oners through the grated loop-hole overlook- 
ing the south ward through which all person- 
ages must pass to reach the Garden Tower 
which was over the principal entrance to the 
inner ward. One day while thus engaged 
she uttered an ejaculation and bent forward 
to take a nearer view of a prisoner who was 
just brought within by way of the By ward 
Tower through which lay the main gate to the 
Tower. This was used from Tower Hill and 
by royalty when the Tower was used as a 
castle. 

“ What is it, deary ? ” asked Mrs. Shelton, 
who was in the chamber. 

Edward Devereaux,” answered the girl 
excitedly. “ Now why hath he been sent here ? 


276 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

Gramercy ! methought none of the pages stood 
higher in the queen^s favor than he.” 

“ Tis past knowing,” remarked the woman 
in a matter-of-fact tone. “ He who stands high 
with the queen to-day, to-morrow may be be- 
headed on Tower Hill. Marry ! Tis better to 
be one of the people, for they are held dear by 
the queen. Beseems that Her Grace cares 
naught for the courtiers. They are always 
being sent here, either to be held in durance 
for life, else to be beheaded. I am glad that 
I am not of the court.” 

Francis did not heed her words, but was so 
excited at beholding a face that she knew that 
she leaned forward as far as she could, calling 
loudly : 

Edward ! Edward Devereaux I ” 

The youth looked up, but the girl was uncer- 
tain as to whether he saw her or not. Mrs. Shel- 
ton hurried forward at the sound of her voice. 

“ Child ! ”* she cried pulling her forcibly 
from the window, dost want to be taken else- 
where and lodged ? There are other towers 
far gloomier than this, and if thou carest not 
to taste their shadows thou wilt be more cir- 
cumspect.” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 277 

Thy pardon, mistress,^’ said Francis recov- 
ering her self-possession. “ I meant not to 
transgress, Tis the first time since I saw my 
mother that I have looked upon a face that 
was known to me. I could not but greet him, 
e’en though he be mine enemy.” 

‘‘ Thine enemy ? ” said the woman curiously. 

How now, mistress ? Tell me the tale. 
Twill speed the hour and, forsooth, there is 
need of entertainment here.” 

Thus adjured Francis related the story of 
the shooting of the deer ; the incident of the 
duel ; spoke of the enmity that had always 
existed between the families of Staffords and 
Devereaux ; narrated how Edward had favored 
her when the Lady Priscilla Rutland had 
stolen her hair ; concluding with : 

Therefore, thou seest, good Mistress Shel- 
ton, that there can be naught but enmity be- 
twixt us twain. He hath done me service, ’tis 
true, and otherwise is a proper youth, I dare 
say. Yet still he is mine enemy.” 

“ ‘ Yet still he is mine enemy,’ ” mocked 
Mrs. Shelton. “ Marry, girl ! ’Tis marvelous 
hate that thou showest when thou dost call 
to him when he hath been brought into 


278 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

durance. * Yet still he is mine enemy.’ ” 
She laughed. 

Make merry, an ye will, mistress,” said 
Francis, but still is it as I tell ye.” 

“ There, child ! I meant not to vex thee,” 
appeased the woman who had grown fond of 
Francis, so long had she been in her keeping. 
“ I must learn more of the lad.” 

Do find why he hath been committed,” 
cried the girl eagerly. I can but wonder at 
it. Hath he too been engaged in treasonable 
enterprise ” 

Nay ; ” interrupted Mrs. Shelton, “ for then 
he would have entered under the tower of St. 
Thomas through the Traitor’s Gate.” 

In a few days she reported to Francis that 
the charge against him was a nominal one. 
He seemed to be committed only to be re- 
strained of his liberty and was given the priv- 
ilege of the Tower, wandering through the 
wards at pleasure save only that he could not 
pass the outer walls of the fortress. 

And so it happened one day that when 
Francis, attended by Mrs. Shelton, was taking 
the air in the lieutenant’s garden Edward 
Devereaux chanced to be walking there also. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 279 

Seeing them he doffed his bonnet and ap- 
proached, deferentially speaking to Mrs. 
Shelton : 

Gracious madam, may I be permitted to 
speak with your charge ? ” 

It is not the custom for one prisoner to 
hold converse with another, young sir,^^ re- 
plied Mrs. Shelton. “ But, as ye are enemies, 
I will indulge thy request, albeit ye speak that 
I may hear all.’’ 

“ I thank you, madam, for your courtesy,” 
replied the youth bowing. Mistress Francis, 
how fare you ? ” 

Well, Master Devereaux,” answered Fran- 
cis. “ That is,” she added, as well as one 
may fare who rests under the displeasure of 
the queen.” 

“ You say truly,” sighed Devereaux. “ Yet, 
methinks that to be under the queen’s dis- 
pleasure brings not more ill than to stand high 
in her grace.” 

What mean you. Master Devereaux ? ” 

Why, truly, you lie under her ill will, and 
so abide in this grim fortress ; while I, who 
am her favorite page, do dwell in the same 
place.” 


28 o in doublet and HOSE 


“But wherefore asked Francis. “Of 
what crime hast thou been guilty ? ” 

“ None, Francis. Save and except that I 
wearied of the court and its vain pleasures. 
I would play a man’s part as did Sir Phillip 
Sidney. There was a man, noble, chivalrous 
and brave ! Beady to adventure all things, 
yet he was the flower of courtesy ! He was 
my example. I wished, like him, to achieve 
renown, and so when the news came that 
the Armada was about to embark from Spain, 
I asked her leave to go with Drake, who was 
to set sail for Cadiz to obstruct the Spanish 
fleet’s progress. She refused to let me go, and 
so I ran away to Plymouth, where was my 
Lord Howard in charge of our ships there 
awaiting the coming of the enemy. But the 
queen held me in so much favor that she 
feared for my safety, and so sent after me, and 
had me conveyed hither to remain until the 
danger be over. Gramercy ! ” he broke forth 
his lips curling with scorn, “ am I to stay here 
mewed up like a girl when every son of England 
should be in arms against the Spaniard ? ” 

“ But are the Spaniards coming, in truth, Ed- 
ward?” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 281 


“So rumor hath it, Francis. Twas said 
that they have set sail already, but I know 
not the truth of the matter.” 

“ Thou art not much changed,” said Francis 
presently. 

“ But thou art, Francis. Thou art taller, 
and thinner ; yea, and paler,” observed Dever- 
eaux with such a note of compassion in his 
voice that Francis flushed. The youth noted 
her annoyance and added quickly : “ And 

still do you wear the dress of a page ? Fie, 
Francis ! art so enamored of male at- 
tire ? ” 

“ Nay ; Master Devereaux,” replied Francis. 
“ I marvel that I tell thee why I do so, seeing 
that it concerns thee not, but I wish not to 
don my maiden dress until my father bids 
me. How long that will be, I trow not, since 
I have heard naught of him since I came to 
this place.” 

“ Thy father dwells in France. He with 
some others of the conspirators succeeded in 
escaping to that country.” 

“And Lord Shrope? How is he? Fain 
would I know, for truly he hath been mine 
only friend in this dire time of need.” 


282 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


“ Lord Shrope hath been in the Nether- 
lands for nigh two years past, Francis/^ 

“ Marry, child ! exclaimed Mrs. Shelton. 
“ Then it could not have been he who sent 
thee all those things.” 

“ No ; who, who could it have been ? Me- 
thought in all England I had no friend but 
him. Would that I knew the donor’s name 
that I might cherish it forever.” 

“ ’Twas thine enemy, Francis. Oh, stupid 
girl, where are thine eyes ! See, his looks 
bewray him,” laughed Mrs. Shelton. 

“Was it thou, Edward Devereaux?” de- 
manded Francis. 

“ Well, what if it were thine enemy, Fran- 
cis ? What then ? Wouldst still cherish his 
name? ” 

“ Surely it was not thee, Edward Dever- 
eaux ? ” 

“ It was even I, Francis Stafford.” 

“ But why, why ? ” asked she in bewilder- 
ment. “ You are mine enemy and the son of 
my father’s enemy. Why then shouldst thou 
show such favor to me ? ” 

“ I robbed thee of that deer, Francis. ’Twas 
fitting that I should amend the theft if pos- 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 283 

sible.’’ A merry twinkle crept into Edward's 
eye. “ And thou hast still to forgive me the 
blow I struck thee in our encounter." 

I should thank thee, Master Devereaux," 
said Francis constrainedly. “ I do thank 
thee from my heart, though I see no cause yet 
for thy action. At another season perchance 
I may be able to thank thee in manner more 
befitting the courtesy. I thought it from a 
friend, and it grieves me that I find it other- 
wise. Pray you pardon me that I can do no 
more than say, I thank you." 

'Tis enough," answered Edward. “ At an- 
other season perchance thou mayst find it in 
thy heart to say, ^ Ned, I forgive thee the 
deer ; I forgive thee the blow that thou gavest 
me, and I forgive thee that thou art mine 
enemy.' " 

“ It may be," said the girl coldly. “ Come, 
good mistress, 'tis time that we did go in. 
And so fare you well. Master Devereaux." 

Fare you well, mistress," answered Dever- 
eaux courteously. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE ESCAPE 

Frequently after this Francis saw Edward 
Devereaux in the garden, but she preserved 
such a distant demeanor toward him that the 
youth did not dare to address her. 

“ Fie upon thee, lady bird,’’ chided Mrs. 
Shelton. Is it thus that thou dost requite 
such favor ? Thou dost not deserve to be re- 
membered.” 

“ But I thought that the gifts came from 
Lord Shrope,” said Francis. “ And they are 
from mine enemy.” 

“ But they served the self-same purpose, 
chuck, as if they were in truth from him. 
Did they not rouse thee from thy depression ? 
I tell thee that I have been long in these grim 
walls, and I have seen men of high degree for- 
gotten and forsaken by friends. They have 
remained here years without one token from 
without. Thou hast been favored to no 
small extent, and now thou dost repine and 

284 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 285 

will not touch thy guitar because, forsooth, 
*twas sent thee by ^ thine enemy/ Marry I 
Pray Heaven send me such enemies ! ” 

“ It may be that I have been somewhat un- 
gracious,^’ said Francis penitently. “ If thou 
wilt permit, good mistress, I will tell the lad 
so. But I wish it had been my Lord Shrope.” 

Out upon thee for such a wish, child ! 
Marry ! to desire to be remembered by an old 

man rather than by a young, handsome ” 

she laughed and added slyly, enemy. Were 
he not in the queen’s favor thou couldst not 
have liberty to speak with him, and thou art 
foolish to let slip such opportunity for con- 
verse. The queen may repent her of his im- 
prisonment at any time, and then thou 
mayst never see another to hold communion 
with.” 

Am I always to stay here, Mrs. Shelton ? ” 
asked Francis wistfully. ‘‘ Though in truth 
were I to be freed I would not know where to 
go. Still ’tis hard to be shut up within this 
dreary place.” 

I know not, child.” 

Why have I not been brought to trial? ” 
continued the girl. Others were tried and 


286 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

sentenced and met their doom, while I linger 
on, not knowing what my fate is to 
be.” 

I know not,” answered Mrs. Shelton again. 

Question it not, girl. There are those here 
who have lain for years in like uncertainty, 
and will so wait until death releases them.” 

And their lot will be mine,” observed the 
maiden mournfully. “ Happy were they who 
met death on the block ! I am so young and 
so strong. Twill be long ere the tomb claims 
me. And to look forward to all those years — 
oh, Tis hard, hard ! ” She paused for a time, 
and then went on pathetically : ‘T dreamed of 
the fens and the wildwood last night, mis- 
tress. Methought the breeze came fresh from 
the distant sea. I felt its breath upon my 
cheek. I heard the sound of the horns, and 
the bay of the hounds as they were unleashed 
for the chase. I mounted my palfrey, and 
dashed in pursuit of the dogs. I rode as ne’er 
I rode before. On and on ! and then, as the 
clamor of the hounds told me the game was 
brought to bay, I reached for my bow, and — 
touched the walls of my prison. Then I awoke. 
It was all a dream,” she ended with a sob. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 287 

All a dream, and I shall never ride in the 
forest again/’ 

“ There, sweetheart I think no more on it,” 
soothed Mrs. Shelton. Come ! let us go 
down to the bonny laddie who, even if he be 
thine enemy is more real than dreams.” 

Francis composed herself and followed the 
woman into the garden where Edward Dever- 
eaux already wandered. As she answered his 
greeting with a slight smile the youth ven- 
tured to enter into conversation. 

“ Hast heard the report ? ” he began eagerly. 

’Tis said that the Spanish have been driven 
back to their coasts by a storm, but are again 
preparing to sail for England. Oh, for a 
chance at them ! If I could but once take a 
Don by the beard I would content me to stay 
in these walls forever.” 

Say not so. Master Devereaux,” said 
Francis. ’Tis a dreary place, and hadst thou 
been here for nigh two years as I have been thou 
wouldst not utter such things. ’Tis dreary — 
dreary ! ” She sighed heavily, and despite 
herself a tear rolled down her cheek. 

How now, Francis,” cried Devereaux 
touched by her distress. Thou with the 


288 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 


megrims? Why, Francis, ^tis unlike thy 
spirit ! ’’ 

I had a dream,” said Francis striving to 
repress her tears, and it hath made me long 
for liberty.” And she related it to him. 

I wonder not at thy longing,” said the 
lad. I too desire with all my heart to be 
free. And,” he lowered his voice and glanced 
about for Mrs. Shelton but she was busied over 
some plants, and out of earshot, ‘‘ and I in- 
tend to be soon.” 

“ What ! ” cried Francis, her grief forgotten, 
looking at him with eagerness. 

Not so loud,” cautioned Edward. “ I 
mean to escape, Francis, and to go to Lord 
Howard to help fight the Spaniards.” 

Oh, Edward,” breathed the girl, “ take me 
with you.” 

Nay ; I cannot. Thou art but a girl, and 
the risk would be too great. I have the free- 
dom of this inner ward, but there still remains 
the outer ward and the moat, which, as thou 
knowest, is on all sides of the Tower, and on 
the south there is the Thames also. The haz- 
ard would be too great.” 

“ Nay, nay,” pleaded Francis, her soul on 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 289 

fire at the mere mention of escape. Do take 
me.’^ 

“ But what couldst thou do even were we 
to succeed ? ” demanded Devereaux. ** Where 
couldst thou go? 

To my father in France/' replied Francis. 

“ Nay ; but " — began Devereaux again when 
the girl caught his hand and held it tightly 
with her own. 

I will not let thee go until thou dost con- 
sent/' she cried with some of her old wilful- 
ness. Oh, Edward, do say yes." 

Devereaux looked at her thin hands, her 
face so pale and worn, so different from its 
former sauciness, and all the chivalry of his 
nature rose up. 

When thou dost speak so, Francis," he 
said gently, I can deny thee nothing." 

And thou wilt ? " cried she with shining 
eyes. 

Yea, Francis ; but consider well the 
danger. If we fail it may mean death." 

We will not fail," declared the girl with 
positiveness. If we do, is not death better 
than imprisonment? I promise that I will 
kill at least one Spaniard." 


290 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

I will hold thee to that vow/^ laughed 
Devereaux. But thy woman comes, Fran- 
cis. I will inform thee of the plan when I 
fix on one. Fare you well.” 

“ Fare you well,” returned Francis. 

“ Thine enemy’s converse hath done thee 
good,” commented Mrs. Shelton waggishly on 
their return to the upper chamber of the Bell 
Tower. 

Francis looked at her a moment and then 
said with dignity : 

“ I had forgot that he was mine enemy, 
mistress. Besides, I may have been somewhat 
unmannerly in my treatment of Master Dev- 
ereaux, and it behooves me as a gentlewoman 
to make other recompense for his courtesy.” 

And say you so, Francis?” laughed Mrs. 
Shelton who considered the affair great sport. 

Belike it be no unpleasant duty. But there, 
child ! ’Tis little of entertainment thou hast, 
so make merry with the lad for I fear that he 
will not remain here long.” 

“ I fear so too,” answered Francis, and in 
her heart lay the unspoken wish that not only 
Devereaux’s time but her own might be short. 

The days passed and Edward Devereaux 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 291 

had not yet matured a scheme for their flight. 
June waxed and waned, and July was upon 
them. Then one day, when the girl had 
almost despaired of hearing him speak of the 
attempt again, Devereaux said to her in a low 
tone : 

Art thou willing to make the effort to- 
night, Francis ? 

^‘To-night?’’ cried Francis thrilling at 
the thought. “ Yea ; to-night, Edward. But 
how ? 

Does Mrs. Shelton stay in your chamber 
at night? ” 

Not now. Not since I recovered from 
mine illness.^’ 

“ And is there not a flight of steps leading 
to the roof?^^ 

Yes ; replied Francis surprised. How 
knew you that ? ” 

Easily. The alarm bell of the fortress 
stands on that roof, and there must of necessity 
be communication from the inside as well as 
from the outside. Besides all the other 
towers are so connected. Thou knowest that 
my lodging is the uppermost story of the 
Bloody Tower where tradition hath it that the 


292 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

two princes of York were murdered by Rich- 
ard of Gloucester. I have found that between 
the outer wall of the Tower and the chamber 
there is a passage communicating with the top 
of the ballium wall to the west. Along that 
I will proceed until I reach the roof of the 
Bell Tower where I will make fast the rope for 
our descent. After we are down we must 
make use of our wits to pass the gate in the 
Byward Tower and so reach Tower wharf 
where friends will await us with a boat. 
There is no moon, and the darkness will favor 
the plan. There are secret passages which 
lead out of the Tower but these I have been 
unable to discover. They are known to but 
few and those few are incorruptible. The 
passage leading to my lodgings is all that I 
have knowledge of, and I had much ado to 
find that, and to obtain the rope.’’ 

But the sentinel, Edward ? There is 
always one stationed by the bell.” 

Leave him to me, Francis,” said Devereaux 
evasively. “ Do you fear to adventure it ? ” 

“ Nay, Edward. I rather rejoice at the op- 
portunity for action.” 

Then await my coming. And to-night 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 293 

the die will be cast. Liberty and England, or 
imprisonment and death ! All depends upon 
this throw. Do you fear, Francis? 

“ No ; answered she proudly. I am no 
weakling that I should fear. Dost thou not 
know the motto of the Staffords : A Toutrance ? 
(To the utmost) I am a Stafford. Therefore 
will I dare to the utmost.’^ 

Well said, mistress. If my courage fail 
me thou wilt inspire it anew. So fare you 
well until night.” 

They parted, and Francis returned to her 
chamber to await the coming of the darkness 
with what patience she could. The hours 
went by on leaden wings. At last the portal 
leading to the roof was opened, and Edward 
Devereaux^s voice sounded in a low whisper : 

Francis ! ” 

“ I am here,” answered the girl thrilled by 
the call. 

Then come ! ” 

Gladly she obeyed, and ascended the short 
flight of steps, and soon stood beside the form 
of Devereaux on the roof. 

The sentinel,” she whispered. 

Lies there,” and Devereaux pointed to a 


294 DOUBLET AND HOSE 

dark figure extended at full length beside the 
belfry. “ Mind him not. We must hasten. 
Here is the rope. Descend, and loose not thine 
hold of it until thy feet have touched ground 
as thou lovest life. Remember the fate of 
Griffin of Wales.’^ 

Francis grasped the rope and swung herself 
clear of the belfry. For a moment she swayed 
dizzily, then the rope settled, and steadying 
herself by means of the roughened surface of 
the old walls she slipped quickly to the 
ground. The Bell Tower consisted of only one 
story above the ground one so that the feat 
was not so difficult as it would have been from 
any of the other towers. Giving a tug to the 
rope in token that she had reached the ground 
in safety she waited Devereaux’s coming with 
palpitating heart. In a few moments he was 
beside her. 

For a second they stood silently, but no 
sound from the battlements above betokened 
that their flight had been discovered. Grasp- 
ing the girl’s hand Devereaux drew her 
quickly across the outer ward into the shadow 
of the Byward Tower through which was the 
principal entrance. This was guarded by a 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 295 

burly warder whom the youth could not hope 
to overcome by strength, so he resolved upon 
a strategy. With a low breathed injunction 
to Francis he bent over, and ran at full tilt 
into the man as he came toward them, hitting 
him, as he had foreseen, directly in the stom- 
ach and upsetting him. With a roar and a 
shout the guard sprang to his feet just as they 
darted past him. The drawbridge leading 
across the moat was closed, but, nothing 
daunted, the two leaped over the railing into 
the moat below. 

The sentinels on the battlements of the 
tower heard the splash and instantly gave the 
alarm. The bell rang ; lights flashed along 
the ramparts, and numerous shots were fired 
into the moat after the fugitives. The moat 
was wide and deep, and Francis whose phys- 
ical vigor was undermined by her long con- 
finement, felt her strength failing. 

Leave me, Edward,” she gasped. I can 
hold out no longer. Save thyself! ” 

Never I ” came from Devereaux valiantly, 
and he supported her with his arm. “ Lean 
on me. The wharf is not far distant. Cour- 
age ! ” 


296 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

As they neared the other side a low whistle 
sounded, which the lad answered in like man- 
ner. Then indistinctly the form of a man 
became visible on the opposite bank. 
Again the whistle came, and a line 
was thrown out to them. This Edward 
grasped, and they were soon towed to shore, 
and pulled from the water. 

We must hasten,’^ said the man who had 
come to their assistance. The whole garri- 
son is aroused.” 

With all the speed they could muster they 
hurried to the Tower wharf where a boat was 
in waiting. 

“ Devereaux,” said a man grasping the hand 
of the youth, “ is it thou ? ” 

“ In very truth ’tis I, Walter. And right 
glad am I to be here. But hasten, beseech 
you. I would not be retaken for all the 
wealth of Spain.” 

The boat shot out from the wharf into the 
river, and passed swiftly down the stream. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE THKEE VOLUNTEERS 

Some distance down the river a vessel lay at 
anchor. To this the boat made its way and 
lay alongside. Devereaux, the young man 
whom he had called Walter, and Francis 
scrambled aboard, and the wherry put off. 
The sails of the ship were raised, and, as she 
glided swiftly toward the open sea, Devereaux 
gave a shout of exultation. 

Now for Plymouth and the Dons,^’ he cried 
gaily. Oh, Francis, is it not glorious to be 
free? 

Yes ; replied Francis, scarce able to speak 
so overcome was she by her emotion. 

And as soon as we touch Plymouth thou 
canst take passage in another vessel for 
France.^' 

Then indeed did the girl turn upon him 
with flashing eyes. 

France ? she cried. Go to France while 
England is in danger ? Never I Never I At 

297 


298 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

Plymouth do I stay, Edward Devereaux, with 
the fleet. I am resolved to meet the Dons as 
well as thou.” 

“ But, Francis, thy faith ! Tis the same as 
the Spaniards ! Thou canst not meet them.” 

“ ’Tis true that I am Catholic, but still am 
I not born English ? Never would I see alien 
foot tread English soil, be the intruder of what- 
ever faith he may.” 

“ And there spake a true Englishman,” said 
he whom Edward had called Walter. So 
spake Charles Howard, Lord High Admiral 
of the navy. And so also hath spoken every 
true Englishman of Roman Catholic faith. 
Who is thy friend, Edward ? I was surprised 
to find that another accompanied thee in thy 
flight from the Tower.” 

As Devereaux opened his lips to reply, Fran- 
cis touched his hand warningly and answered 
for herself 

“ I am Francis Stafford. I was imprisoned 
in the Tower charged with treason to the queen, 
though of that I am innocent.” 

“ Well, Master Stafford, prove thy mettle at 
this, England’s time of need, and it may be that 
England’s queen will overlook thy past trans- 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 299 

gressions. I am Walter Mildemay, kinsman 
of Edward Devereaux, and a true subject of 
the queen’s majesty, save and except for abet- 
ting the rescue of Edward Devereaux. For 
that I hope to make my peace with the queen 
if we meet the Spaniards.” 

“ Hath their ships been sighted yet, Walter ? ” 
asked Edward. 

Nay ; but they watch for them hourly as 
they have been doing for days. ’Twill surely 
not be much longer till they come.” 

The summer’s sun was casting its lengthen- 
ing shadows across the quiet harbor of Ply- 
mouth as the little vessel containing the three, 
Walter Mildemay, Edward Devereaux, and 
Francis Stafford, anchored not far from the 
town. A boat put off, bearing the three named 
to the place where they had been informed 
Admiral Lord Howard was. 

It was the memorable evening of July 19, 
1588, and an exciting game of bowls was being 
played upon the green back of the Pelican 
Inn known to every officer of Her Majesty’s 
navy. Standing round the bowling alley were 
a group of men watching the game with inter- 
est. Lord Howard of Effingham, the Lord 


300 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

High Admiral of England ; Sir Robert South- 
well, his son-in-law, the captain of the Eliza- 
beth Joncas ; Sir Walter Raleigh and Sir Rich- 
ard Grenville ; Martin Frobisher and John 
Davis ; John Hawkins and his pupil. Sir 
Francis Drake, the vice admiral of the fleet. 

The three paused as they entered this illus- 
trious group. Sir Walter Raleigh was the 
first to spy them. 

Ha, my apt pupil of the sword ! he cried. 

Why came you hither ? 

We are come to join the fleet,’’ answered 
Francis boldly. 

“ Lord Howard, here be three more volun- 
teers,” cried Raleigh. Verily it beseems that 
all of England’s sons have come forth for the 
fight.” 

And they have done well,” answered the 
deep voice of the noble admiral. 

** ‘ Come the three corners of arms. 

And we shall shock them ! Nought shall make us rue. 

If England to herself do rest but true.* 

So says that knave — Will Shakespeare. Ed- 
ward, thou here again ? I thought the queen 
held thee in durance ? ” 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 301 

She did, my lord admiral,’^ returned Dev- 
ereaux. But think you that I was to be 
mewed up like a girl when England had need 
of me ? I trow not ! ’’ 

Spoken like a true Englishman, boy, save 
the slur upon the girl. Know, Master Ed- 
ward, that so enthusiastic are women and 
girls that if we men wax faint hearted in the 
strife English women and English maidens 
will take up the battle for their country.’^ 

I crave pardon, my lord. Such speech 
was unworthy an Englishman when the proof 
is by his 

I am Francis Stafford, my lord,’^ inter- 
rupted the girl, knowing full well what Ed- 
ward was about to say. My father and I 
were accused of treason to the queen when 
Anthony Babington conspired against her life. 
I escaped from the Tower in company with 
Master Devereaux. Do not, I beseech you, 
say me nay when I plead for place with you. 
I would fain prove that I am a true and loyal 
subject of Her Majesty.” 

'' And thou shalt be given the opportunity, 
lad. And thou, young sir,” to Walter Milde- 
may, art thou escaped from the Tower also ? ” 


302 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

“ Nay, sir ; I am but accessory to their 
flight,’’ replied the young man. 

“ The saints preserve us 1 ” ejaculated his 
lordship piously. “ Now Heaven send the 
Dons soon else I shall have such a storm about 
mine ears as never wind did raise.” 

At this moment an old sailor burst into the 
midst of the group. 

“ My lord, my lord ! ” cried the weather- 
beaten old salt to the lord high admiral, 
“ they’re coming. I saw ’em off the Lizard 
last night ; they’re coming full sail, hundreds 
of ’em a darkening the waters 1 ” 

A cheer rose from the lips of the men ; a 
spirit of excitement stirred every heart. Nay ; 
not every breast, for Sir Francis Drake, the 
vice admiral, said coolly to his chief as he 
hurled the bowl along the smooth, worn 
planks : 

There will be time enough to flnish the 
game, and then we’ll go out and give the 
Dons a thrashing.” 

And now the beacon lights flashed the 
news from hilltop to hilltop, and on to Lon- 
don, and thence northward to the Scottish 
borders, and westward throughout Wales until 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 303 

every village and town of every shire in Eng- 
land thrilled with the tidings. Forgetful of 
religious dissensions, of feud, and of private 
wrong, all Englishmen arose as one man to 
repel the invading foe. 

Amidst all the confusion incident to the 
announcement of the old seaman, Devereaux 
drew Francis aside and whispered entreat- 
ingly : 

Francis, I implore thee to remain here. 
Tis not seemly that thou shouldst board ship. 
There will be fighting, and 

And thou wouldst have all the glory, Ed- 
ward Devereaux,’’ cried the girl unjust as she 
often was when indignant. “ Dost thou 
think that I fear ? What hath life to yield 
that would equal the sweetness of striking 
one blow for England ? Think you an Eng- 
lish girl cannot fight as well as an English 
lad ? ” 

Nay, nay, Francis ; but for my sake ” 

^‘For thy sake?” echoed the girl in sur- 
prise. ‘‘Why should I stay for thy sake? 
Come 1 we lose time.” 


CHAPTER XXIX 


A BRITOMARTE OF THE ARMADA 

The call was sounded. It rang through 
every ship like a trumpet note and every man 
sprang to his duty. 

“ On to the Dons ! No Spanish Inquisi- 
tion ! ” was the watch-cry of the English navy, 
and with great difficulty, for the wind was 
against them, they steered for the open sea. 

It was not until the next day that they 
came within sight of the Armada. The 
most powerful fleet that had ever been known 
since the beginning of time. Blest by the 
pope, sent forth amid the prayers and the 
fastings of the people, the fleet had been 
cleared of every unclean thing, for haughty 
England who styled herself the mistress of the 
seas was to be humbled upon her own ele- 
ment and made to yield her lands to the for- 
eigners. 

The great Spanish ships, built high like 
castles and towers, stretched in the form of a 
304 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 305 

crescent measuring at least seven miles from 
horn to horn. They came slowly on, and, al- 
though under full sail, yet as though the 
winds labored and the ocean sighed under 
the burden of it, says Camden. When they 
reached the open channel Lord Howard dis- 
covered his policy to his men. 

They were not to come to close quarters 
with the towering, unwieldy galleons, but to 
pour broadside after broadside into them at a 
distance and to bide their opportunity to fall 
upon them. Nearer and nearer drew the two 
fleets, the Spanish preparing to begin the 
action at daybreak. But at two o^clock the 
gibbous moon arose in a clear sky and showed 
to the astonished Spanish the English fleet 
lying in their rear just out of cannon shot. 

The next morning Lord Howard, sending 
before him a pinnace called the Defiance, pro- 
voked the fight by discharging a piece of her 
ordnance and presently out of his own ship, 
called the Ark Royal, thundered upon a Span- 
ish craft which he supposed was that of the 
Spanish Admiral, Medina Sidonia, but which 
proved to be that of Alphonso de Leon. 

At the same time Drake, Hawkins and Fro- 


3o6 in doublet AND HOSE 

bisher fell terribly upon the rear which was 
valiantly commanded by Juan Martinez de 
Recaldo. The English invaded, retired, and 
re-invaded them from every quarter with in- 
credible celerity. The Spanish captain gen- 
eral was nonplused. The English ships ran 
in, doing as much damage as possible without 
coming to close quarters, while his lumbering 
craft were useless to chase and cripple so agile 
an enemy. The great galleons and galleases 
of Spain towered beside the English ships like 
“ Flemish dray horses beside light Arabian 
coursers.’^ 

Fiercer waxed the fight. Recaldo finding 
his vessel much battered, rejoined his chief 
with difficulty and Medina re-collecting his 
scattered vessels held on his course. For two 
hours the fight continued, and then Lord 
Howard thought best to retire to await the 
coming of other ships which had not yet left 
the harbor. 

Flushed and elated with the victory, with 
not a single vessel and scarcely a man lost, the 
English exulted that the great Armada which 
had been devised to strike terror into their 
hearts was not so invincible after all. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 307 

“ Is it not glorious, Edward,^' cried Francis 
Stafford from a coil of rope upon which she 
had thrown herself. ‘‘ How the Dons flew ! 
Oh, ’tis enough to stir a stone to enthusiasm ! 

“ ’T would be glorious, Francis, were it not 
for thee,^' answered the youth. The thought 
that thou art here hampers my every action, 
and always am I looking to see that thou art 
safe. Would thou wert in England ; even in 
the Tower so that thou wert not here.” 

And wherefore ? Do I not bear myself as 
becomes an English lad ? ” cried Francis. In 
all the wide world there is no place that I 
would rather be than upon the deck of the 
Ark Royal. So from henceforth speak no 
more of this. And, Edward, drop no hint of 
my sex to any. Wherefore should not an 
English maiden espouse the cause of her coun- 
try as well as an English youth ? Thou seest 
that there are lads here as maiden like in ap- 
pearance as I. Give no thought to me, I be- 
seech you.” 

I will speak of it no more, Francis,” re- 
joined Devereaux. And yet I would that 
thou wert not here.” 

The girl turned from him impatiently, and 


3o8 in doublet AND HOSE 

hastily joined a group of which the admiral 
was the centre ; for Lord Howard had taken 
them upon his own vessel. 

The next night the air was stormy and the 
night dark. The English fleet was startled by 
an explosion on one of the Spanish ships and 
soon the flames were seen to spring high into 
the air. But other ships went to her aid and 
the fire was soon quenched, but the principal 
galleon of Seville commanded by Pedro de 
Valdez collided with another vessel and, her 
foremast being broken, was forsaken and be- 
came a prey to Sir Francis Drake. 

Dark as the night was. Lord Howard on the 
Ark Royal, accompanied by two ships only — 
the Mary and the Rose — hotly pursued the 
Spaniards. The rest of the English fleet lay 
still because Drake had neglected to carry a 
lighted lantern in the poop of his vessel as had 
been commanded. 

At break of day, having a prosperous north 
wind, the Spaniards bore down upon the 
English, but the English, to take advantage 
of the wind, turned westward. And then be- 
gan a series of maneuvres in which each fleet 
contended to deprive each other of the benefit 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 309 

of the wind. The contest did not last long 
and before noon the English having slipped 
between the Armada and the land bore down 
upon them right before the wind. 

And then began a fierce fight which was 
waged with varying success. For, while in 
one place the English valiantly rescued the 
ships of London which were hemmed in by 
the Spaniards, in another Recaldo, being in 
danger, was disengaged with no less resolution 
by the Spaniards. Never before was such 
lightning and thunder of artillery heard, most 
of which, notwithstanding, went vainly from 
the Spanish, flying clear over the English 
ships. Only Cock, an Englishman, died glo- 
riously in the midst of his enemies upon his 
own small bark. 

The English ships being of lesser build than 
the Spanish invaded the Spaniards with great 
dexterity and having discharged their ord- 
nance withdrew into the open sea and leveled 
all their shot with a certain and successful aim 
at the ponderous Spanish vessels. 

And still the English admiral thought it 
not best to grapple and risk the fortune of a 
hand-to-hand fight. For the enemy had a 


310 /A7 DOUBLET AND HOSE 

strong and well appointed army aboard which 
he lacked, and, their ships standing higher than 
his own vessels, threatened nothing less than 
certain destruction to those fighting them 
from below. This was the most fierce and 
bloody skirmish of all, though it only resulted 
in the capture of one huge galleon and a few 
small craft by the English. There was a 
mutual cessation of hostilities for all the next 
day for the wind fell dead and each fleet was 
compelled to drift idly with the tide. 

The calm was still unbroken when the next 
day dawned, the twenty-fifth day of the month 
sacred to St. James, the patron saint of Spain. 
A small galleon of Portugal called the Saint 
Anne being unable to keep pace with the rest 
of the fleet was set upon by a number of small 
English craft, seeing which three of the great 
galleasses rowed furiously to her aid. Lord 
Howard’s Ark Royal, the Golden Lion of his 
brother. Lord Sheffield’s Bear, and others 
towed by fisher boats met them with such 
salvos of shot that, had not the Spanish fleet 
come up to rescue them, they would have 
shared the fate of Valdez. After this time 
the galleasses would not fight again. The 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 31 1 

wind sprang up by noon and the fight became 
general. All afternoon it raged, and then, ter- 
ribly battered, the Armada would fight no 
more ; but, gathering into a roundel ” set 
all sail for Calais, where Medina hoped to find 
a force from the French to help him and then 
to Dunkirk to join with Parma and the great 
fiotilla of the Netherlands. 

And so with a full southwest wind the 
Spanish fieet went on, the English fieet fol- 
lowing them. It was determined not to at- 
tack them until they reached the straits of 
Calais, where Lord Seymour and William 
Winter would join the navy. 

Meantime Lord Howard conferred Knight- 
hood upon John Hawkins, Martin Frobisher, 
Thomas Howard, Lord Sheffield and Roger 
Townsend for valor and fortitude. And now 
from every bay and harbor of England there 
put forth numbers of small craft hired by the 
youth of England, who hastened to join 
themselves to the fieet, for the Spanish fieet, 
though battered and dispirited, was not yet 
broken, and should it be joined by the forces 
which Medina expected all would indeed go 
ill with England. 


312 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

The Armada anchored in Calais Roads and 
within cannon shot of it lay the English fleet. 
The next day being the Sabbath both fleets 
observed the day with appropriate services, 
the loud chants of the Spaniard mingling 
strangely with the hymns of the English. 

Francis Stafford, wearied and fatigued, re- 
tired to the cabin and, finding it deserted, 
swung a hammock in one corner and clamber- 
ing into it was soon fast asleep. 

I tell thee, Drake,” Twas the voice of Lord 
Howard that awakened her, “ the queen must 
have been inspired to invent so ingenious a 
device. If it succeeds ” 

It will succeed, my lord,” interrupted 
Drake positively. “ That is if there can be 
found men who will adventure it. But it 
will take cool heads and stout hearts and an 
absolute fearlessness of danger. I think I 
know two men who will go but there must be 
others.” 

Instantly the girl sat upright in the ham- 
mock. 

My lord,” she cried, send me.” 

Lord Howard and Sir Francis Drake started 
in astonishment. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 313 

“ Boy, I thought thee asleep,’^ cried the ad- 
miral. ‘‘How long hast thou been awake 

“ But just to hear you say that you needed 
men for some service,’^ answered Francis, 
springing lightly out of the hammock. 

“ I said men, not boys,” said Drake smil- 
ing. 

“ Speak not so. Sir Francis,” reproved the 
admiral. “ The lad hath borne well his part 
though he is so slight and maiden-like.” 

“ And there is this to be considered,” went 
on Francis eagerly. “ I have escaped from 
the Tower. My father, as ye know, is an 
exile. What lies before me but imprison- 
ment, or that worse than death, exilement 
from my native land. Twere better to send 
me whatever may be the hazard than others 
who can illy be spared.” 

“ Listen, boy, and thou shalt hear what the 
enterprise is. I trow that it will quell even 
thy brave spirit, burning though it be with 
valor. This night some of our ships covered 
over with rosin and pitch and filled with sul- 
phur, gunpowder and other combustibles, are 
to be sent into the midst of the Spanish, fired 
and set adrift amongst them. Tis fraught 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

with great danger and peril to the lives of 
those who adventure it.” 

“ Still let me be one of them,” pleaded the 
girl earnestly. 

“ There is much in the lad’s favor,” said 
Drake meditatively. “ He speaks truth when 
he declares that it would be best to send one 
who lies under the queen’s disfavor than an- 
other.” 

‘‘ Yes ; and if successfully performed it may 
bring him pardon. Elizabeth cannot but look 
with favor upon those who help to carry out 
a project devised by herself. Drake, I give 
my consent for the lad to go.” 

“Perchance Edward Devereaux ” be- 

gan Francis and then paused. What right 
had she to bring another into peril that 
might result in loss of life ? But Lord How- 
ard laughingly said : 

“ Another youth. Sir Francis, who burns 
to distinguish himself” 

“ Then let him have his chance,” was the 
vice-admiral’s reply. “ You and I would have 
jumped at such opportunity, my lord.” 

“Go you then, Stafford, to Master Dever- 
eaux and tell him privately of the enterprise. 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 315 

Twill be naught against him if he chooses 
not to accompany the expedition. If he should 
so select, come to me, both of you.” 

Francis eagerly sought young Devereaux. 
It so chanced that he stood for the moment 
apart from his fellows. Joining him she said 
in a low tone : 

“ Edward, do you wish to adventure a most 
perilous undertaking? ” 

Marry ! Francis Stafford ! how canst thou 
ask such question? Thou knowest that I 
burn to do something. It chafes me to be so 
inactive while in such near distance lies the 
Spaniard.” 

“ Then hearken ! This night ships be- 
smeared with pitch and rosin and filled with 
combustibles are to be sent into the midst of 
yon fleet. Two men are already chosen to 
guide them thither, and thou and I can ac- 
company them also. But the admiral bids 
me say that it may be dangerous.” 

Huzzah ! ” pealed forth from the lips of 
the youth like the blast of a trumpet. 

“ Hush ! ” whispered Francis. “ He desires 
it not to be made public. Come to him.” 

She could scarce keep pace with his eager- 


3i6 /AT DOUBLET AND HOSE 

ness as he bounded before her into the pres- 
ence of the English commanders. 

I thank you, my lords, he said bowing 
to them, “ for this opportunity. When shall 
we be off? " 

The two men could not forbear a smile. 

“ There is no hurry, Devereaux,^^ said Lord 
Howard. ‘‘ It will be after night falls before 
the ships are started. Art sure that the peril 
is well understood ? It may be that you will 
not come back.’^ 

‘Tt may be so, sir,^’ answered the young 
man. “ Sir Francis or any one of us 
may be taken in the next engagement. 
But who would preserve life if by giving it he 
may keep England and England's queen from 
the invader?” 

Spoken like a true Englishman, lad,” 
cried Drake heartily. Now, my lord, these 
two will return with me and, in God’s name, 
with my two Devon men we shall this night 
so put upon the Spaniards as they shall ne’er 
dream of setting foot on English soil again.” 

“ Go,” said the lord admiral placing an 
arm about the neck of each. “ Go, my lads. 
My hopes and prayers go with you. And 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 317 

should aught happen to ye, the queen shall 
know that ye died in her service. And so fare 
you well.” 

“ Fare you well,” answered they both and 
followed after Drake to his own boat — The 
Revenge. 

About two o’clock Monday morning eight 
ships smeared all over the outside with pitch 
and rosin, their ordnance loaded with stones 
and bullets and filled with sulphur and other 
materials suddenly combustible glided out 
from among the English fleet and took their 
way silently toward the Spanish ships lying 
so serenely at anchor. The night was cloudy. 
The moon was late in its last quarter and did 
not rise till morning. The darkness favored 
their enterprise. The wind blew in long, low 
gusts from the westward which drove them 
full upon the Armada. Presently as the dark 
forms of the ships bore full upon the Spanish 
vessels a tiny spark of light gleamed like a 
twinkling star at the stern of the boats. For 
a second it wavered and flickered and then in 
a moment more a red glare lighted up the 
heavens and cast a lurid glow upon the two 
fleets, the cliffs of England and the sea and 


3i8 in doublet AND HOSE 

showing plainly two boats — with Young and 
Prowse, the two men of Devon in one ; 
Francis and Edward in the other. 

With a rush and roar the flames leaped 
madly from stem to stern and up through all 
the rigging sending out great tongues of fire 
forward, backward, sideways threatening total 
destruction to anything . that came within 
their reach. 

Pull, Francis,” cried Devereaux bending 
with desperate strength to the oars. “Pull 
for your life.” 

The girl obeyed with a will. And now 
from the ships of Spain there went up a fear- 
ful cry. A panic seized upon them at sight 
of those awful burning vessels. They cried 
out that not only was there danger of fire but 
that they contained deadly engines also. 
Everything was in confusion. Panic-stricken 
they weighed anchor, cut their cables, hoisted 
their sails and struck for the open sea, every 
ship afoul of her neighbor. A huge gallease 
had her rudder broken and drifted helplessly 
with the tide. 

With shouts and cries of joy the English 
fleet sailed after the Armada. Meantime the 



" pi ’LL, PULL FOR YOUR LIFE!" 


















A 

9 

*. • 


I 



t 









t 




4 


V 

» 



4 • 








I 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 319 

small boats pulled hastily for the nearest 
English vessel, but so suddenly did the 
Spanish scatter, and the English change to 
take advantage of their flight, that the posi- 
tion of the boats became dangerous in the ex- 
treme : for what with the high wind, the burn- 
ing ships, the rolling of the deep, the helter- 
skelter flight of the Armada and the pursuit 
of the English their position was, to say the 
least, precarious. 

Devereaux changed the course of his boat 
several times, but as he was borne in spite of 
himself among the Spanish vessels he cried 
despairingly to Francis, 

It is of no avail, Francis. We must die.’^ 
Look ! was the girl’s reply. 

Full well upon them bore a galleon. The 
Saint Matthew. 

“ Dogs of heretics,” cried the commander 
from the poop of the vessel, “ die ! ” 

Ned, dear Ned ! ” shrieked Francis, throw- 
ing herself upon him, striving to shield him 
from the bullets and arrows that rained about 
them. The lad gave her one look, and opened 
his lips to reply when, with a shout of wild 
joy from the sailors. The Revenge glided in 


320 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

between the frail bark and her towering 
foe. 

“ Heave ho/^ cried Francis Drake in sten- 
torian tones. Lie to, my lads. Did’st 
think we’d leave such likely lads to perish ? 
Nay ; below with ye,” as they were pulled on 
deck. “ Ye have done your part. The rest 
of us will now bear the brunt of action.” 

And the English fleet swept on to deal the 
flnal blow to His Most Catholic Majesty, Philip 
of Spain’s, Invincible Armada. 


CHAPTER XXX 


PAKDON AND HAPPINESS 

The final blow which sent the Armada fly- 
ing northward had been given. With not a 
single ship taken and but one, the small bark 
of Cock, lost, and not more than sixty men 
killed, the English fleet sent up a psean of 
joy, and drew up for conference before follow- 
ing further the fleeing enemy. 

“ Ye two,” said the lord admiral to Fran- 
cis and Devereaux, seeing that ye lie under 
Her Most Sovereign Majesty ^s displeasure, 
shall bear to her the tidings of our victory. 
None deserve it more, and, please God, by so 
doing ye shall win pardon from her. As for 
me I shall on after the Spaniard as long as 
provisions and ammunition will permit.” 

And so it came about that Francis and 
Devereaux proceeded to the camp at Tilbury, 
where the queen was at this time. She was 
dining in the tent of Lord Leicester, the lieu- 
tenant general of the land forces, herself be- 

321 


322 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

ing the generalissimo, when they arrived. 
There were present, beside the queen and the 
earl. Sir Francis Walsingham, who had come 
down from London for conference with the 
queen ; Hatton, the vice chamberlain, the 
young Earl of Essex who, despite his inex- 
perience, had been made the captain-general 
of the cavalry, and Lord Shrope, who had 
hastened to return to England upon hearing 
of his country's peril. Francis flashed a 
glance of joyful recognition at him, but was 
deterred from other greeting by the presence 
of the queen. 

Elizabeth had risen at their approach, and 
when the girl beheld her high pale forehead 
furrowed by lines of care, the lofty features 
sharpened by anxiety, she felt her heart glow 
toward her sovereign and the last feeling of 
animosity which had lain so long in her heart 
faded away never to return. It was therefore 
with a sincere feeling of reverence that she 
knelt before Elizabeth, who had shown her- 
self at this time to be a true daughter of the 
lion-hearted Plantagenets. 

“Ye bear messages from the lord admiral,^’ 
cried the queen somewhat anxiously. “ Rise, 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 323 

Edward Devereaux, and deliver thyself of 
them.’^ 

Most gracious madam/’ said Edward, ris- 
ing gracefully, the strength of the enemy is 
broken. Dispirited and distraught they fly 
before the lord admiral. Madam, the Ar- 
mada is no more. Here are letters writ by 
Lord Howard, in which he gives the victory 
in detail.” 

Now God be praised,” ejaculated the 
queen, “ but this is news indeed. My Lord of 
Essex, do you spread the tidings throughout 
the camp that my loving people may rejoice 
with me. Thy indulgence. Master Devereaux, 
while I peruse my Lord Howard’s dispatches. 
Retain thy place that I may confer with thee 
later.” 

Rapidly she glanced over the epistles, and 
then turned to the assembled lords. 

My lords,” she cried, “ behold these lads ! 
They have borne themselves with signal valor 
during the meeting with the Spaniards. 
They two, in company with two others of 
whom more anon, set fire to the ships which 
brought fear and panic into the fleet of the 
enemy. Which same device was recom- 


324 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

mended by us to the lord admiral. Speak, 
Edward Devereaux ! What reward dost thou 
wish for thy service ? 

''Thy pardon, Most Gracious Lady, for 
breaking the bounds in which you placed 
me.’^ 

" Ah, Ned, Ned,” said Elizabeth with that 
archness which, despite her fifty-five years, she 
continued to employ, " didst thou not know 
that thy queen placed thee there for thy 
safety ? ” 

" True, madam ; ” assented Devereaux. 
" But not the strongest dungeon of the Tower 
should have held me in durance when thy 
person, and my country were in danger.” 

" Thy silvery tongue no less than thy serv- 
ice doth well incline me to thy will, Ned,” 
said she graciously. " Thou art forgiven. 
And thou ? ” she added turning to the kneel- 
ing girl. " Art thou not that Francis Stafford 
lately concerned in plot against our person ? ” 

" I am that most unhappy being, madam,” 
said Francis, rising and looking the queen 
steadfastly in the face. " I throw myself 
upon your mercy, Your Majesty, and crave 
forgiveness. My only plea for so great a fault 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 325 

is, that at that time I had not been brought 
near your person and knew you not. Had I 
known you I would never have transgressed. 
Do with me as you will. Return me to the 
Tower, or use your pleasure upon me in any 
fashion as seemeth best to you, only forgive 
me.^' 

Hast thy father schooled thee to speak 
thus? demanded the queen. 

My father ? Nay ; I know not where he 
is. I have not seen him since I entered the 
Tower nearly two years ago,'^ answered the 
girl. 

The queen said something in a low tone to 
Lord Shrope. That nobleman immediately 
left the tent, and all eyes centred expectantly 
upon the queen. Francis looked at her with 
a growing anxiety as she remained silent. 
Was she going to remand her to the Tower ? 
Were not her services deserving of some recog- 
nition ? What was meant by that continued 
stillness? The queen stood regarding her 
with those keen, piercing eyes whose fires age 
had not dimmed, and Francis met her gaze 
with a sort of fascination, her eyes dilated, 
her lips parted as she waited the issue. 


326 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

Presently Lord Shrope reentered the tent 
and with him there came one at sight of 
whom Francis gave a great cry. 

“ My father I ” And not even the presence 
of the queen could prevent her from running 
forward to embrace him. Her father gave no 
sign that he knew of her presence, but ad- 
vancing to where the queen stood, knelt before 
her saying : 

“You sent for me. Your Grace, and I am 
here.’^ 

“ My Lord Stafford,^’ said Elizabeth affably, 
“ thou knowest that when thou didst present 
thyself before us, beseeching us to permit you 
to be of service in defending our person, that 
we agreed that time should prove thy worth. 
My lord, thou and thy son have redeemed 
yourselves nobly in our eyes. Rise, my lord ! 
You are restored to your right of blood and 
to your property. Thy son also hath our full 
and free forgiveness.’^ 

“ Madam, thou art graciousness itself,” said 
Lord Stafford kissing her hand. “ I do re- 
pent me of all my transgression against you, 
but from this time forth, my queen, by the 
grace of God, you will have no stauncher 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 327 

subject than William Stafford. As for my 
daughter 

Thy daughter ? ’’ cried Elizabeth. Thy 
daughter ? What mean you, Stafford ? 

He means, Your Highness,’^ cried Lord 
Shrope, that his son is not a boy, buta girl.’^ 

“ Hold thy tongue, Shrope ! commanded 
the queen sharply. “ Thy wits are addled. 
Who is there who will read the riddle clearly ? 
Thou, Francis Stafford ? 

But Francis, utterly miserable in that 
her father took no notice of her, was 
sobbing bitterly and therefore could not 
reply. 

Let me read it. Your Majesty,^^ said Lord 
Stafford, and receiving consent he related the 
whole story from the time of her coming to 
Stafford Hall, concluding with, 

I know not. Your Highness, why she doth 
continue to wear the garb unless from dire 
perversity 

“ Nay ; cried Francis, her spirit asserting 
itself. Tis because Twas at thy bidding that 
I donned it, and I vowed never to remove it 
until thou didst bid me so to do. Oh, would 
that I had perished in battle ere thy hardness 


328 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

toward me should pierce me with such ag- 
ony I And she again gave way to her 
grief. 

“ Why, what hath she done, my lord ? 
asked the queen curiously. 

“ She betrayed my trust. Your Grace, an- 
swered Lord Stafford. 

“ Nay, Stafford,^^ exclaimed both Walsing- 
ham and Lord Shrope together. You wrong 
the girl.^^ 

Wrong her ? asked Lord Stafford eagerly. 
“ Speak, my lords ! If ye can convince me of 
that ye shall remove all that my heart hold- 
eth of bitterness. I long to take her to my 
breast again, but I would not so long as I be- 
lieve that she betrayed trust. 

She would not betray thee, Stafford, even 
when threatened with torture, spoke the sec- 
retary. My Lord Shrope can bear witness 
to the truth of what I speak.” 

With a bound Lord Stafford reached the 
weeping girl and caught her to him. 

My daughter ! My daughter I ” he cried. 
‘‘Can you ever forgive me? Say that you 
forgive me.” 

“And you do believe in me?” questioned 


IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 329 

Francis clinging to him convulsively. Say 
that you do, my father. 

I do, I do, my child.’^ 

“ My lord, we will permit you to retire un- 
til you are calmer,’^ came from the queen. 

Thank her, Francis,’^ said Lord Stafford 
leading the girl forward. Thank our gra- 
cious queen who hath shown so much of kind- 
ness to us.’^ 

“ There, sweetheart ! ” said Elizabeth as 
Francis with streaming eyes tried to articulate 
her gratitude. Twill suffice for the present. 
We like thy spirit, and later will receive thee 
into service near us. When thou hast donned 
thy maiden attire we would see thee again. 
Though, by my faith, if all men would honor 
the garb as thou hast done, there would be 
few knaves in the kingdom.’^ 

^‘And this is Mistress Francis Stafford?” 
cried Edward Devereaux as, two days later, 
Francis stood on the banks of the river watch- 
ing the queen as she embarked for London. 

Upon my word, Francis ; thy attire well be- 
comes thee.” 

“ ^ Hast thou found me, oh, mine enemy ? ’ ” 


330 IN DOUBLET AND HOSE 

quoth the girl gaily turning a bright face to- 
ward him. 

“ Thine enemy, Francis ? said the youth 
reproachfully. “ I thought that that had 
passed. After all that we have been through 
together thou shouldst not call me so.” 

And art thou not mine enemy ? ” asked 
she archly. “ Nay ; ” as a pained look crossed 
his face, I know that thou art not.” 

■ And neither art thou mine,” asserted Ed- 
ward. Ah, Francis, may not we two bury 
that old enmity by a union of our families in 
us? If thy father give consent wilt thou 
agree also ? ” 

“ If my father consent, then so will I also, 
Edward,” spoke the girl softly, adding 
saucily — Tis the only way that Vll ever get 
that deer’s horns.” 


STORIES FOII5 GIRLS 


BETTY WALES, FRESHMAN. By Margaret 
Warde. Illustrated by Eva M. Nagel. “ Every nice girl 
likes college, though everyone likes it for a different reason,” 
says one of the college girls in this delightful story, and 
the same thing might be said of the book. Betty and her 
chums get all the good and all the fun out of their fresh- 
man year at college. In its course are some triumphs, little 
and great, friendships made and marred, a few heart- 
burnings, and many an honest hard- won happiness. The 
girl who has been to college will wish she were back among 
J-hem, and the one who is going will find herself eager to be 
with such as Betty and her friends, and to do as they do. 

EARNING HERj) W^AY. By Mrs. Clarke John- 
son. Illustrated by Ida Waugh. A charming story of an 
ambitious girl who overcomes in a most original manner 
many obstacles that stand in the way of securing a 
college course. While many of her experiences are of a 
practical nature, and show a brave, self-reliant spirit, some 
of her escapades and adventures are most exciting, yet 
surrounding the whole there is an atmosphere of refine- 
ment and inspiration that is most helpful and pleasing. 

HERj) COLLEGE DAYS. By Mrs. Clarke John- 
son. Illustrated by Ida Waugh. This is a most inter- 
esting and healthful tale of a girl’s life in a New England 
college. The trustful and unbounded love of the hero- 
ine for her mother and the mutual and self-sacrificing 
devotion of the mother to the daughter are so beautifully 
interwoven with the varied occurrences and exciting inci- 
dents of college life as to leave a most wholesome impres- 
sion upon the mind and heart of the reader. 

CLOTH BINDING ILLUSTRATED EACH, $1.25 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
923 cARCH STREET PHILADELPHIA 


STORIES FORj) GIRLS 


TWO WYOMING GIRLS. By Mrs. Carrie L. 
Marshall. Illustrated by Ida Waugh. Two girls, thrown 
upon their own resources, are obliged to “ prove up ” their 
homestead claim. This would be no very serious matter 
were it not for the persecution of an unscrupulous neighbor, 
who wishes to appropriate the property to his own use. 
The girls endure many privations, have a number of thrill- 
ing adventures, but finally secure their claim and are gener- 
ally well rewarded for their courage and perseverance. 

THE GIRL RANCHERS. By Mrs. Carrie L. 
Marshall. Illustrated by Ida Waugh. A story of life 
on a sheep ranch in Montana. The dangers and difficult- 
ies incident to such a life are vividly pictured, and the 
interest in the story is enhanced by the fact that the 
ranch is managed almost entirely by two young girls. 
By their energy and pluck, coupled with courage, kind- 
ness, and unselfishness, they succeed in disarming the 
animosity of the neighboring cattle ranchers, and their 
enterprise eventually results successfully. 

IN DOUBLET AND HOSE. By Lucy Foster 
Madison. Illustrated by Clyde 0. DeLand. A story of 
the time of Queen Elizabeth. The heroine and her family 
favor the claims of Mary of Scotland to England’s throne. 
During a visit of Elizabeth to the home of the heroine’s 
parents, the queen becomes displeased, and as a punish- 
ment, orders the girl to attend her at Court. Her advent- 
ures there and the incidents which lead to her confinement 
in the Tower of London, her escape therefrom, and fina l 
restoration to favor with the great Queen, form a most 
interesting narrative. 

a 

CLOTH BINDING ILLUSTRATED EACH, $1.25 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
923 (lARCH street PHILADELPHIA 


STORIES FORj GIRLS 


tA DAUGHTER:, OF THE UNION. By Lucy 

Foster Madison. Illustrated by Clyde O. DeLand. A 
story of the Civil War in which the interest centers about 
a brave young girl who is sent by her father from New 
York to New Orleans as a bearer of important messages. 
Aided by Admiral Farragut she delivers these after running 
the Mississippi blockade. Later she is forced to leave New 
Orleans and is captured arid held a prisoner at Vicksburg 
until its surrender to General Grant. 

zA COLONIAL cTWAID OF OLD VIR- 
GINIA. By Lucy Foster Madison. Illustrated by 
Clyde O. DeLand. The heroine, while yet a motherless 
babe, is adopted by a wealthy planter of Virginia. At an 
early age she evinces a strong love for the cause of the 
colonies, while her uncle and his family are ardent adher- 
ents of the King. Her man^ deeds of heroism carry her 
to Philadelphia during its occupancy by the British, thence 
to Valley Forge, the Wyoming massacre, and finally to the 
surrender at Yorktown. 

zA cTWAID at king ALFRED’S COURT 

By Lucy Foster Madison. Illustrated by Ida Waugh. 
This is a strong and well told tale of the 9th century. It 
is a faithful portrayal of the times, and is replete with his- 
torical information. The trying experiences through which 
the little heroine passes, until she finally becomes one of 
the great Alfred’s family, are most entertainingly set forth. 
Nothing short of a careful study of the history of the period 
will give so clear a knowledge of this little known age 
as the reading of this book. 

CLOTH BINDING ILLUSTRATED EACH, $1.25 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

923 cARCH street PHILADELPHIA 


STORIES FOKd girls 


zA cTWAID of the first century 

By Lucy Foster Madison. Illustrated by Ida Waugh. 
A little maid of Palestine goes in search of her father, who 
for political reasons, has been taken as a slave to Rome. 
She is shipwrecked in the Mediterranean, but is rescued 
by a passing vessel bound for Britain. Eventually an 
opportunity is afforded her for going to Rome, where, after 
many trying and exciting experiences, she and her father 
are united and his liberty is restored to him. 

THK WHIRLIGIG. By Evelyn Raymond. Illus- 
trated by Ruth Rollins. She is called “ The Whirligig ” 
because she is so apt to be blown about by her emotions. 
It is not until she goes to live with an old aunt and uncle 
and is thrown upon her own resources, that she develops 
a steadier and stronger character. She is a great comfort 
to the elderly people, and at a time when the whole village 
is threatened with a flood, she rides down the valley and 
warns the people of their danger. She is a very natural, 
lovable girl, and the story ends all too soon. 

cA YANKEE GIRL IN OLD CALIFORNIA 

By Evelyn Raymond. Illustrated by Ida Waugh. A 
young girl, reared among most delightful surroundings in 
Vermont, suddenly discovers that, owing to a clause in her 
father’s will, she must make her future home with rela- 
tives in the lower portion of old California. No more in- 
teresting experience could come in the life of any bright, 
observing girl than that of an existence in this semi-tropical 
region, with its wealth of Spanish tradition, its glorious 
climate, and its abundance of flowers and foliage. 

CLOTH BINDING ILLUSTRATED EACH, $1.25 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
923 cARCH STREET PHILADELPHIA 


STORIES FORj) GIRLS 


c>4. QUAKKRj) c>^AIDBN. By Evelyn Raymond. 
Illustrated by Ida Waugh. A young girl reared in 
all the simplicity of a Quaker family is suddenly trans- 
ported to the home of a wealthy cousin. She is at first 
greeted with derision, but gradually her unfailing gentle- 
ness and sterling character win the respect of her cousins, 
and at a time of financial disaster she becomes the reli- 
ance of the entire family. 


zA DAUGHTER^ OF THE FOREST. By 

Evelyn Raymond. Illustrated by Ida Waugh. The 
heroine of this unusual tale resides with her uncle on an 
island in the backwoods of Maine, and her exciting ad- 
ventures, her unique animal pets, her rescue of her father 
from unlawful imprisonment, all combine to form a story 
of exceptional interest and merit. Considerable informa- 
tion concerning animal and plant life is interwoven with 
the story. 


C^WY LADY BAREFOOT. By Evelyn Ray- 
mond. Illustrated by Ida Waugh. A beautifullj" told 
story of the trials of a little backwoods girl who lives 
in a secluded place with an eccentric uncle, until his 
death. The privations she undergoes during his life-time, 
her search for other relatives, her rather uncongenial 
abode with them, her return to her early home to acquire 
her uncle’s estate, and thus to enjoy a useful and happy 
life, form a most interesting narrative of a girl whose 
ruggedness and simplicity of character must appeal to the 
admiration of all readers. 

CLOTH BINDING ILLUSTRATED EACH, $1.25 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
923 cARCH STREET PHILADELPHIA 


/ i I 1 

' Jv ' 

STORIES FORp GIRLS 


THE LITTLE LADY OF THE FORT. 

By Annie M. Barnes. Illustrated by Helene Wood. 
A dramatic story dealing with the struggles of the early 
French and Spanish settlers for supremacy in the Caro- 
linas. The heroine is an only daughter of the French 
commandant and is enticed from the fort and held captive 
by the Spaniards. Her release is finally effected by a 
young Spaniard whom she befriended, but not until aft( i 
she has endured many severe trials. 

THE FERRY c^WAID OF THE CHATTA- 
HOOCHEE. By Annie M. Barnes. Illustrated by 
Ida Waugh. An heroic little Georgia girl, in her father’s 
extremity, takes charge of his ferry, and through many 
vicissitudes and several impending calamities, succeeds in 
carrying out her purpose of supporting her invalid parent 
and his family. The heroine’s cheerfulness and hearty 
good humor, combined with an unflinching zeal in her 
determination to accomplish her work, show a character 
which cannot fail to appeal to young people. 

DOROTHY DAY. By Julie M. Lippmann. Illus- 
trated by Ida Waugh. This is a most interesting story 
of a bright and spirited young girl whose widowed mother 
remarries. The impulsive girl chafes under the new re- 
lationship, being unwilling to share with another the 
bounteous love of her mother which she had learned to 
claim wholly for her own. By the exercise of great tact 
and kindness, the obdurate Dorothy is at last won over, 
and becomes a most estimable girl. 

CLOTH BINDING ILLUSTRATED EACH, $1.25 

THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 
923 cARCH STREET PHILADELPHIA 


Lb D cq 













